Up in Flames
by lucawindmover
Summary: AU Post Season 1 finale. They were meant to be used as a new influx of genes for Mount Weather. But Clarke Griffin and her band of survivors would not be going along willingly.
1. Chapter 1

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter One

"Waking Up"

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><p>Clarke Griffin woke slowly, as if she were rising through water. She was aware of her limbs and her breathing and her terrible headache far before she was actually able to move her head or open her eyes. She was having a hard time stringing her thoughts together and she knew that it had to be because she'd been drugged with something. Groaning, she shifted her leaden limbs, pushing herself up against the pillows in her bed.<p>

Wait, pillows? Bed? Where the hell _was_ she?

Finally getting her brain to send the right message to her eyes, she opened them and felt instantly blinded. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, the bedding…it was all white. She squinted into the brightness, trying to use any detail at all that might tell her where she was.

The bed she was in was small, only big enough for one person but still far more spacious than what she'd had at the drop ship.

The drop ship!

This thought caused Clarke to jerk herself out of bed and stumble forward on rubbery legs. By the time she reached the door set into the far wall, she'd managed to get feeling back in her toes. But the door was locked and there was no way to see out.

She clenched her jaw as she realized someone had changed her clothes, dressed her in the same white as the rest of the room, and bathed her. The watch that she usually wore, the one that had belonged to her father, was nowhere to be seen. There, just above her wrist, was a puncture wound where an I.V. had been possibly just hours earlier.

"Hey!" her voice cracked as she called through the door, hoping that someone on the other side might be able to hear her. She banged and called again but didn't hear anything in return. The doors and walls could very well be sound-proofed. She had no way of knowing.

She had no way of knowing anything.

Frustrated, she moved to the corner of the room and slumped to the floor, her back to the wall. With her face in her hands, she concentrated in taking deep breaths. She knew that she shouldn't over-tax herself. She had no idea how long she'd been asleep. Long enough for her body to be showing mild symptoms of disuse and that was disconcerting in itself. Were her friends here too?

She didn't have long to wait as the door opened suddenly and a person was shoved roughly through the opening. Clarke tried to jump to her feet, hoping to rush her captors and thus escape. But her coma-weakened legs didn't cooperate and she tripped over her own feet, landing on the floor next to the other captive as the door slammed shut. She hadn't so much as gotten a glimpse of the people who had been out there.

"Cowards!" she screamed at the door, her voice hoarse from disuse.

"Princess?"

The prone form on the floor next to her rolled over and Clarke found herself face-to-face with someone she hadn't thought she would ever see again.

Her shoulders sagged and she let her head fall to the floor in relief. "Bellamy," she said softly, allowing herself a moment to be thankful that he hadn't suffered the fiery fate of the Grounders. He'd escaped the ring of fire after all.

Bellamy was similarly clad all in white. He'd been cleaned and been given first aid, as she had. He pushed himself up on weak arms until he managed a sitting position.

"Where the hell are we?" he asked, frowning and looking around the room.

"I have no idea," she said, watching his eyes. She hadn't made herself sit up yet. It was exhausting just to think about it.

"Do you think this is what the Grounders meant by 'Mountain Men'?" he asked. "Those crazy suits they were wearing kind of made them look like those pictures the Grounder had in his book."

Clarke pushed herself up on her elbows. "What suits? You mean you saw them?"

He nodded.

She looked away and took a deep breath. "I thought you were dead," she said simply. "You should have been dead."

"You can't get rid of me that easily," he said, his trade-marked smirk sliding into place. But Clarke could tell that it wasn't genuine and she just pursed her lips. He sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit. "Finn and me, we got out of the way of the blast. Used the tunnels," he said. "But then those damn suit guys came in and with the gas and everything…we knew we couldn't take them. There were only two of us. So we followed from a distance, waiting for a chance. Looking for a weak spot."

"I take it that didn't go well?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes before he continued. "Yeah well. They got to this big door in the side of a cliff and started stripping you guys. I mean everything. All the clothes and shoes and whatever. Just tossing everything into a big bin. When they got to you…I think Finn and I both just kinda lost it," he paused and looked away, training his eyes on the door as if he expected it to open. "They took your dad's watch. So yeah, we rushed them. Got in a couple of hits. I'm pretty sure Finn actually killed one of them when he ripped his facemask off. Then it went black. I don't know how long we've been here. I just woke up while they were dragging me down the hall."

"Well that explains how they were able to get you in here without a fight," she said. She pushed herself up to sitting and dropped her hands in her lap. "Because I'm pretty sure someone would have been bloody otherwise."

Bellamy rolled his eyes but Clarke could detect the slightest upturn of his lips, fighting the smirk that he had freely given her when he'd been faking it.

"So now what, Princess?" he asked.

"I guess that depends."

"On what?"

She shrugged. "On whether or not we're patients or prisoners."

Bellamy shook his head. "They took us with guns and have us in a room without a handle on the inside. There's no way we aren't prisoners."

Before any further discourse could be had on the subject, a monitor set into the wall next to the door lit up, displaying an elderly gentleman sitting behind a desk. Clarke felt her eyes go wide and she glanced at Bellamy who seemed equally stunned.

"Welcome," said the man on the screen. He had bright blue eyes and frosty hair, the wrinkles set into his face gave him a gentle look. Clarke didn't trust him. "You've reached Mount Weather and not a moment too soon."

Clarke sat up a little straighter and she could see that Bellamy had as well.

"You are finding yourselves coming out of chemically induced comas. There was a lengthy decontamination period through which it was much more pleasant for all involved for you to be asleep. We here at the Mountain don't have a tolerance for radiation the way that you from the Ark have developed. Enough years living in space has given your generation, and possibly the one that came before you, the ability to withstand levels of radiation that would kill our people."

"That probably explains the suits you saw," Clarke interjected. Bellamy nodded thoughtfully.

The man continued. "The fact is, our people are dying anyway. We have fewer children being born in each generation and fewer of those children are able to bear their own children. We are facing a crisis that you are uniquely poised to fix."

Bellamy crossed his arms. "I don't like where he's going with this."

"Of the fifty of you that we recovered from your ship, twenty are female. We have paired each of them up with one of your males. The remaining ten of your males have been paired with ten of our own fertile women, the few who remain."

Clarke felt her chest tighten. She was with Bellamy on this one. She didn't like where this was going either.

"All we require of you are children," the man said. "One from each pair. Once you have given us a child, you will be free to leave the mountain. Of course you could stay and raise your child here if you wish, under the condition that you would also provide more children. But the one child is all that is required for your release. I regret that we are unable to give you a choice in this matter. Unfortunately, our people will cease to exist in another two generations if we do not get this new influx to the population. I was elected to save our people and I will do that above all else."

Clarke could feel the blood rushing in her ears and her face felt hot. "They can't force us to have children," she said, looking at Bellamy. His jaw was tight and his hands were balled into fists. He didn't respond, only continued to glare daggers at the screen in front of them.

"Once the female in your pair has tested pregnant, you will be allowed new freedoms. A mess hall and recreation area are awaiting all of you. You will be reunited with your friends as soon as the pregnancies are confirmed. You will be well fed, sheltered, and protected for as long as you are here," the man paused for a moment. "We look forward to working with you in this endeavor."

And with that said, the monitor blinked black and then settled on white, fading into the paneling on the walls.

Clarke continued to stare at the blank space, trying to wrap her brain around the information she'd just received. It hit her all at once, the demand they were making, and she felt herself starting to unravel. She pushed herself to her feet, feeling like she needed to move but having nowhere to go.

"They can't do this," she said, shaking her head and pacing. "They can't. This is ridiculous. I refuse. I absolutely refuse."

Bellamy stood as well, standing back and out of the way of her pacing. "He didn't threaten conditions for refusing. Why?"

Clarke threw her hands in the air. "I don't know, Bellamy. How am I supposed to think about that right now? I just…I can't…I just can't…" she trailed off, her breathing becoming labored. She was having a panic attack. She knew the symptoms even though she'd never had one before. Growing up in space, she'd always promised herself that she wouldn't have a child. She had never wanted to be pregnant. While she'd always loved her mother, she'd never wanted to be one. And once they'd gotten on the ground, she'd never even entertained the idea. She could fight Grounders, hurricanes, mutated predators, Reapers…but it was the idea of having a child in this fragile and broken world that scared her more than anything else. "Why aren't you freaking out?"

Bellamy held his hands up as if to fend her off even though she was on the other side of the room. "When have I had the time to? And for that matter, why are you freaking out _so much_? Aren't you supposed to be the level-headed one?"

Clarke gulped and moved over to the bed, taking a seat on the side. "They want me to grow another human being inside of me. A whole little person. You can't _possibly_ imagine how scary that is."

"I don't have to imagine it. I actually _witnessed _Octavia being born. I've seen childbirth. That's fucking scary, okay? There's no way I would want to inflict that on anyone. Trust me," Bellamy was quiet for a moment. When Clarke chanced a look in his direction she could see that he had his arms crossed and his feet planted, a posture that she recognized as his "stubborn" stance.

"Well then we don't let it get to that point," he said as if it were the most simple of suggestions. "Whatever it is they think they have over us, whatever they think they can use to manipulate us into this…kid…thing…we just won't let them. Simple as that."

Clarke laughed humorlessly. Of all the people she could be stuck in here with, she was glad it was him. If anyone could get them out of this situation, it would be Bellamy. With her help of course. And it was this thought that lessened the pressure in her chest. She took a deep breath and nodded. They would handle this just like they'd handled everything else, by the seat of their pants and with varying degrees of success. Together.

"Come Hell or high water, right?" she said with a smirk.

Bellamy's brow furrowed and he shrugged a little.

"Sorry," she said, rolling her shoulders. "Just something my dad used to say." Thinking about her father made her feel a little stronger, a little less anxious.

At least until the lights dimmed. Clarke's first thought was one of relief. The lower light didn't hurt her eyes so much in the white room. This must have been the Mountain Men's way of simulating evening so that people could sleep. They'd had a similar system on the Ark. But then she heard a hissing sound that stood the fine hairs on the back of her neck on end.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

"What was that?" he responded. "Is it coming from the vents?"

Clarke stood and crossed the room to stand under the air vent. "No, I don't think so. There's no airflow here. But look up there," she said, pointing to several small holes in the tops of the walls around the perimeter of the ceiling. "I bet there's some kind of gas coming out of there." She pulled up her shirt to cover her mouth and nose but it only took her another couple of seconds to realize she was too late.

The sensation came over her like a wave of fire rolling through her veins. It was so disconcerting at first that it was hard for her to realize it was pleasure. She felt her face go red and she turned away before Bellamy could see. It was an aphrodisiac that they were pumping into the room. It was so strong that Clark had to bite her lip to keep from groaning as everything between her knees and her navel was set aflame. Her legs felt like rubber as she took a few steps toward the wall for support. The movement was a bad idea, she realized too late, as just the friction of her thighs rubbing together for those two steps was enough to make her whimper.

"Okay, we have a big problem," Bellamy said from behind her. He still sounded like he was on the far side of the room, for which Clarke was endlessly thankful. Her body was betraying her at the moment and she wasn't sure she could keep her behavior in line with her thinking.

"No kidding," Clarke replied, breathlessly. "Now I see why they didn't make threats. They were pretty sure the drugs would take care of it for them."

She could hear his heavy breathing in the enclosed quarters and it wasn't doing her any favors. The little hairs on her arms were standing up.

"Well I'd say it's pretty _damn_ effective," he said.

Clarke gulped, knowing exactly what he was saying. "You too then, huh?"

He laughed humorlessly.

She grit her teeth, wanting to take a deep breath but not wanting to put any more of the aphrodisiac into her system than was absolutely necessary. She could still hear the hissing sound from above and wondered how much longer they would keep pumping drugs into the room. She couldn't help but wonder how everyone else was holding up. Had they already succumbed to its effect? Were her friends already well on their way to becoming parents?

The thought of sex, of her friends having sex right now, caused her to groan and clamp her thighs together. She hadn't meant to. It had been entirely involuntary.

"Okay, you gotta stop making sounds like that," Bellamy said, his voice gravelly and low. "It's taking everything in me right now to stay pinned to this wall. I'm gonna have to take care of this somehow."

Clarke licked her lips. "Take care of it?"

"Don't make me explain myself, Princess. This is bad enough as it is."

The realization of what he meant hit her like a blast of heat and she had to press her forehead to the wall to keep herself upright. The thought that somewhere behind her he had his hands on himself, working out all the sexual frustration caused by the drugs in their system, nearly caused her to lose it.

She'd never even thought of Bellamy this way before. He'd been her enemy, her ally, her partner. Somewhere in there he'd become her friend, someone she could count on, who had her back. He trusted her and valued her. He didn't look at her like a thing to be protected or worshiped or desired. She was a whole person to him, not just a girl. He was the first person in her life to have ever made her feel that way. Peripherally, she'd always realized he was attractive, that other girls in their little rag-tag group had desired him. She knew that he was no stranger to sexual pursuits. But she'd never personally desired him.

Until now. Right now when she knew that his drug-heated blood was currently pooled in the same erogenous zones that she was having trouble with, she desired him. She knew, _knew_, that he would somehow be able to dispel this frustration within her, this desire that was so strong that it bordered on pain. He was taking care of his. Surely he'd take care of hers too, if she asked.

She shook her head and took a breath, slipping her hand inside the waistband of the white shorts they'd dressed her in. She wouldn't ask him to do it. She could do it herself. It wasn't as if it was something she'd never done before.

But as her fingers hit her soaked undergarments, she whimpered against her will. She was too sensitive.

"You're killing me over there, Princess," Bellamy groaned.

That groan finally did her in. She felt her knees quiver and she closed her eyes. "Bellamy…I, uh. I need your help," she said haltingly, more embarrassed than she'd ever been in her life.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and hoped she wouldn't have to explain any further. She kept waiting for him to come up behind her but he didn't. After a moment of feeling her stomach tie in knots, he finally answered.

"Rules," he finally bit out. "I…don't feel like I can trust myself right now. So…rules. We need them."

Clarke squeezed her eyes closed and bumped her forehead against the wall a few times. "I'm going to be honest with you," she said with a quivering voice. "Even if we make rules, I'm not sure either of us will be able to stick to them right now. This damn drug is really strong."

She must have finally said the right thing because a moment later she could feel him standing behind her. He leaned into her from behind, one hand on the wall next to hers and the other running down the arm attached to the hand she still hand in her pants.

The heat coming off of him was intoxicating. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, turning her face toward his neck. The skin there was so soft and inviting, smelled clean and crisp but with an undercurrent of something that she could only describe as Bellamy.

His right hand followed down her arm to her waistband, slipping inside it and cupping her own hand. He used this hand to pull her hips back into his and she could feel his erection pressing into her from behind.

"Okay," he said breathily. "Only one rule then. I pull out. I'll be damned if we give them what they want."

Clarke was a mess of warring sensations as she nuzzled his neck and she couldn't quite get his words to make sense. "Pull out of what?"

And then she opened her eyes and met his in the gloom for the first time since the drug had started wreaking its havoc. They were full of unguarded lust and something else. Permission. He was asking permission. She completely understood.

This was the ultimate question of trust. Her worst fear come true should he not hold up his end of the bargain.

She nodded once and he immediately crushed his mouth to hers.

"_I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust. I'm breathing in the chemicals."_

_Imagine Dragons "Radioactive"_


	2. Chapter 2

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Two

"In the Fire"

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><p>Bellamy Blake couldn't believe this was happening. In the little part of his brain that wasn't actually affected by the aphrodisiac-soaked blood rushing through his system, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't reconcile the girl currently in his arms with the one he knew she actually was.<p>

This wasn't his Clarke. This wasn't his Princess. This was the most base and feral version of her, pulled forward by the drugs that she couldn't fight. There wasn't much in this world that Clarke couldn't fight, and he knew it, but this was one of those few things. Her body was no longer in her control.

Neither was his for that matter.

When he'd made his proposal, trying to explain without having to say it, that he would not be the one to get her pregnant, he hadn't entirely expected her to understand his promise, let alone actually trust him enough to accept.

But she'd turned those bright blue eyes on his in the dark, eyes full of heat and desire and trust, with a faith in him that he wasn't sure he deserved, and she'd nodded.

He'd come undone and there was no stopping now.

She pressed herself into his body, bringing her free hand up to grip his neck as she was the one to deepen the kiss. She was all heat and softness and he was lost.

Bellamy had fought very hard not to think of Clarke in this way. Only a blind man could have ignored how beautiful she was. But Clarke was more than a pretty face and she had proven that time and again. She was strong and stubborn and determined. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty when it was necessary. She was capable and trustworthy and could hold her own against an army of Grounders. She was his partner and as soon as he'd realized that, he'd done whatever he could to keep from jeopardizing that relationship. He needed her. And she needed him, too. Neither of them could keep everyone safe on their own. He needed her levelheadedness and she needed his ability to make the hard choices. It wasn't that she wasn't capable of doing it. He'd seen that she was. But he liked being able to take that weight off her shoulders whenever he could. She already carried too much.

And now she seemed weightless, born along by the drug in her veins, pulling her hand from her pants and turning herself toward him so as to further press into the kiss. He was helpless, sliding his hand around to cup her rear and rolling his hips into hers. She moaned into his mouth and he felt his knees weaken. They couldn't stay standing long. Between the overblown lust causing them each to tremble and the fact that until today they'd both been in comas of indeterminate length, they were both about ready to fall over.

He backed them away from the wall and toward the bed. She must have realized what he was doing at some point because the second the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, she was pushing him flat and climbing up to straddle his hips. She never stopped kissing him, her tongue determined to map every inch of his mouth, her teeth nipping at his lips in ways that caused his fingers to tighten on her hips.

He broke the kiss for a moment, gasping for air. She stared down at him like a wild thing, possessed. While his body was aching to tear her clothes from her body and have his way with her, his mind still rebelled, knowing without the shadow of a doubt that this was wrong.

They were crossing lines that couldn't be uncrossed.

It must have shown in his face, that indecision, because her eyes seemed to clear for a moment.

"Bellamy," she said softly, pushing herself back up to sitting. She was still straddling him but she was no longer within kissing distance. It was as if she was just now realizing what was being a party to. She reached up and grabbed two fists-full of blonde hair. "What the hell are we doing?"

He sat forward, wrapping an arm around her back so that she wouldn't fall.

He wished he had a good answer but he didn't. "We're doing what we always do."

Clarke scoffed and leaned forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "This is _not_ something we always do. This is something in the category of things we_ never_ do," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

He shook his head, wrapping both his arms around her and pulling her closer. He felt her pelvic bone rub across his still-painful erection and barely bit back a groan at the contact. "Who we are and who we have to be in order to survive are two very different things. You remember me saying that, right?"

She sat back again so she could look at his face. He wasn't sure what she was looking for but she must have seen something that reassured her.

"You're right," she said, licking her lips and glancing toward his more than once. "This is not who we are."

"And we will survive this, Princess," he said. "It's Hello high water or something, right?"

And just like that she smiled. It was her real one, the one that he'd very rarely seen and almost never seen directed toward him. His heart thudded loudly in his ears, quite unexpectedly, and he pulled her backwards on the bed, rolling them so that he could have a little control over the situation. If he couldn't control his body's reaction, he was determined to control how he used those reactions.

Clarke was back to meaning business, reaching up to pull his shirt up over his head. Just like that, he realized that the idea of control was only an illusion.

As he leaned down to capture her lips again, she reached between them and wrapped her hand around him. The sensation was so powerful that his mouth left hers with a loud expletive. She moved against him, rocking her hips in time with the rhythm of her hand.

He was done. He'd tried patience but the drug in his system didn't know the meaning of the word. He pushed himself back to his knees and he shed his pants, his eyes glued to Clarke's as she lifted her hips and did the same.

In the space of a heartbeat he went from an agonized ball of pure need to nearly satiated with the simple motion of slipping himself inside her. Clarke's back arched up off the bed as he withdrew and met her, again and again.

Her eyes never left his and he stared her down, telling her with his eyes that this was not who they were, that this behavior due to the drug would not change who they were. This act wouldn't be what defined them. They would survive this as they had survived everything else fate had thrown their way.

The drug made quick work of them and he felt himself slipping toward the edge. When Clarke's fingernails dug into his forearms and her eyes clamped shut, he knew she'd fallen over. She nearly took him with her but at the last second he remembered his promise and he pulled out in time to spend himself across the front of her shirt rather than inside her. It was by no means a perfect form of birth control but it would have to do, given the circumstances.

He collapsed against her, his forehead resting on her collarbone. Listening carefully over the sounds of their labored breathing and pounding hearts, he could detect the absence of the hissing sound. The drug was no longer being pumped in. He wasn't sure if the Mountain people been watching via a hidden camera somewhere like peepshow voyeurs or if they'd just had the gas on a timer. Either way, he knew the air should be starting to clear now.

"I don't know about you," Clarke said, breaking the silence. "But I'm exhausted."

Bellamy would have normally taken this as a complement but he knew that it wasn't the way she'd meant it. He was starting to feel the extent of their exertion so soon after coming out of comas and he had to agree. His limbs felt like lead and his head was swimming. He wasn't sure he could walk a straight line. He turned his head to the side, talking to the soft underside of her chin. "I kind of feel drunk. My head's….swishy."

"Swishy?"

He shrugged and she laughed softly. She'd laughed. He'd actually made her laugh. And then he realized that is fixation on whether or not she'd laughed confirmed the fact that he was not in his right mind. "Side-effects of the gas?"

Clarke yawned loudly, her chin bumping his nose. "Probably."

Neither of them moved for a minute. Bellamy realized he was completely naked as the regular vent kicked on and a breeze caused goose-bumps to pop up along his arms and legs.

"There's a blanket down there somewhere if you can reach it," Clarke said, gesturing toward the foot of the bed.

He groaned and sat up on one elbow, reaching with his free hand to pull up the white blanket. He resumed his place, pulling the fabric up to cover them both.

"Oh," she said, her body tensing up a little. "You're gonna stay there?"

He shrugged, his eyes already drooping. "You want me to sleep on the floor?"

For a second it seemed like she actually considered it. "Well, no. Tomorrow probably yes. But right now…you're kind of warm."

Bellamy felt her relax into the pillow and he let himself finally relax as well. He hadn't realized just how much he'd tensed up until she'd given him permission to stay. He sighed and draped his arm across her.

He was surprised when he felt her arm do the same, tucking the blanket up around him to make sure there was no draft getting in.

It was quiet for a while after that. He knew she was still awake because of the way she was breathing. She might have been relaxed but she was still awake and he found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Finally she sighed and he felt her lips press to his forehead. "We'll have to talk about all this tomorrow," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But right now I just want to sleep."

* * *

><p>Bellamy was woken by the sensation of falling. He'd had dreams like this before, especially right after Charlotte had died, and they were always jarring. This particular feeling, however, wasn't a dream. He hit the floor on his back hard enough to knock the wind out of him, his eyes seeing stars as he realized he'd hit his head too.<p>

"What the hell?" he grumbled, bringing his hands up to his face. He blinked a few times after rubbing his eyes and looked up to see Clarke peek her head over the edge of the bed.

"Oh!" she said, startled. She disappeared and a moment later a pair of white shorts were dropped on his face.

"Sorry," she said, still not visible. "I thought I heard something so I jumped up and….well I forgot you were there."

Bellamy slipped on his shorts and let his head fall back on the floor. From this position, he could see her bare feet traipsing from the other side of the bed over to the door. Usually her skin seemed really pale but in his horrid white room, even her typically fair skin seemed sun-kissed. He shook his head and made himself sit up before he could start having additional weird thoughts about his partner.

"I was right," she said over her shoulder. "I did hear something. There are two big drawers over here that are open."

He stood walked over to join her. "This must be how they give us meals without having to chance opening the door," he said with a frown. There went one of his escape plans out the window.

One drawer held a tray with a morning meal while the other held changes of clothes for them each and towels.

"Why did they give us towels?" he asked, lifting one up and unfolding it. "I don't even see a sink in here."

Clarke lifted a sheet of paper up from the breakfast drawer and started reading the text to herself. She still hadn't managed to meet his eyes yet this morning but Bellamy wasn't going to push it. He wasn't so sure he wanted to tackle the talk he knew they would have to have at some point. She furrowed her brow at something she read and then started scanning the room with her eyes as if she were looking for something.

Bellamy dropped the towel back in the drawer and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "You mind sharing?"

"Oh. Here," she said, handing him the piece of paper and walking over to the far wall.

The page she'd handed him explained that there was a switch that would open a door in the wall to an adjoined bathroom for them and their neighbors. The door could only be open on one side at a time so, in theory, they'd never actually see their neighbors. But from the determined look on Clarke's face, she was already planning a work-around for this.

She found the switch and flipped it and the door slid open. Inside was a regular toilet and sink and something that completely amazed Bellamy.

Clarke's mouth was hanging open. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked. She took a step into the bathroom, her eyes sparkling with amazement.

"Yeah," Bellamy answered with a smirk. "It's a shower. I mean, I'm pretty sure it's a shower."

On the Ark, they'd learned about showers in Pre-war Earth Architecture but they'd never seen one before. The Ark had been forced to conserve water to an extreme degree. Each family was given a hygiene quotient of water to be used out of a tub, and then that water had to go into the backs of the toilets to flush them. Nothing was wasted. The idea of just letting warm water rain down on you until you were clean seemed like a very indulgent experience.

Clarke turned to him with a grin, apparently forgetting her earlier unease. "This I have _got_ to try."

Bellamy backed out of her way as she went back to the drawer to get her clothes and towel. She couldn't close the bathroom door until they were finished using it so she demanded that he didn't peek before ducking into the bathroom.

He decided that while the princess showered, he'd check out their breakfast. Under the domes on the tray was an array of foods he didn't have names for. There was some spongey-looking yellow fluff, some kind of fried meat, and a bowl of various pieces of fruit. He picked up the fried meat and tried it first, finding it crispy and delicious.

While he was looking at the plate, he found a curious empty cup off to the side. It had a cap on it and writing on the side. He picked it up, reading the words. Almost instantly his appetite faded.

"C. Griffin—Test 1"

Test. Pregnancy test. He knew enough from his mother being pregnant that the test for pregnancy was with urine. They already wanted to collect a sample. If they wanted one from Clarke, it was likely they were having all the girls offer up a sample. It meant that they were expecting the gas to have done its job. Some of their people, some of his friends, were likely starting to grow offspring already. Maybe some of them had been able to abstain altogether. A few of them might have had the same idea that Bellamy had managed to think of.

The sound of Clarke shutting off the water in the bathroom made him jump and he dropped the cup in the middle of their breakfast. Luckily nothing seemed damaged. Right then and there, he made a decision. He wrapped the cup in his dirty shirt from the previous day. He took his clothes and towel out of the drawer and dropped in the old shirt and offending cup. She didn't need this. Not right now. Not so soon.

It wasn't as if he was trying to protect her. He knew that she didn't need protecting. And he knew that she could have probably handled it. But she shouldn't have had to. This was his way of telling the Mountain people to go screw themselves.

Clarke came out of the steamy bathroom, rubbing her wet hair with her towel. She was dressed for the day in similar clothes to what she'd been in the day before. Her cheeks were flushed and she was sporting the most mesmerizing grin.

"That was amazing," she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "How's breakfast?"

He shrugged, gathering up his clothes and towel. "There's a bunch of stuff in there that I don't recognize. Feel free to eat it though. I'm not hungry."

He didn't stop to see her expression as he turned and went into the bathroom. He just needed a minute. He needed to swallow back the irrational guilt he felt when he looked at her, knowing that the Mountain people already hoped he'd managed to break his promise to her and get her pregnant. He didn't know what he felt so guilty about. He'd held up his end of the bargain. But somehow, now that the drug was out of his system, he looked back on the previous evening and kicked himself for not being able to hold out against the gas.

Bellamy stripped off his shorts and left his towel where he could reach it and stepped into the shower. He pulled closed the curtain and turned on the water, figuring out quickly how to adjust the temperature.

He'd just been standing there in the stream for a few minutes when he heard Clarke clear her throat from the doorway.

"You know I didn't bother you when you had your turn, Princess," he said.

He could hear her step into the bathroom and see her shadowy figure as she sat on the floor, leaning against the opposite wall. "Sorry. Do you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"If I just sit here."

Bellamy frowned. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to just sit there?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Don't tell me you're missing the shower already."

She laughed softly, or at least he thought she had. He couldn't be sure with the sound of the water all around him.

"It's not that," she said finally. "I'm just feeling…off."

He sighed and rubbed his wet face with his hands. "I can relate to that."

"How do we do this?" she asked. "How are we supposed to do this?"

"You know I don't actually have any answers for that, right?"

She was quiet for a minute, thinking things that he wasn't privy to. He went through the motions of getting himself clean while he waited for her to say something else.

"This is going to complicate things," she said finally.

He snickered. "Oh, like it as all sorted out and orderly before, right?"

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

Bellamy sighed. He did know.

He shut off the water. Despite the fact that no restrictions had been put on the shower times, it just felt wasteful to him to leave it on once he was finished. He stood there, drip-drying and waiting for her to either leave or hand him his towel.

She did neither.

"We take it a day at a time," he said softly.

"And we work on the plan."

He nodded, finding strength in the tone her voice had taken. Gone was the insecure girl who had come in to sit during his shower, replaced with his partner, the one who would get them out of this place.

"Damn right, Princess."

"_Do you understand that we will never be the same again?"_

_Bastille "Things We Lost in the Fire"_


	3. Chapter 3

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Three

"Blind"

* * *

><p>Clarke stood back to survey her handy work. She wasn't sure if it would work out the way she hoped it would but she knew she had to try. She needed as much information as she could get before she could make any kind of real plan to leave this place.<p>

There wasn't a mirror in their bathroom, not exactly. The Mountain people had been smart enough not to arm them with glass. Had it been glass, she'd have been able to break it and fashion weapons. Instead, they had a shined piece of sheet metal bolted to the wall where a mirror should have been. Clarke had meticulously dried it off after Bellamy's shower. Using the grease from the fried meat, she wrote a message to their neighbors on the metal that would be visible once the room was steamed up again.

"What do you think?" she asked over her shoulder.

Bellamy was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed. "I can't read it from here. What's it say?"

"Well, I didn't have much grease so I just put our initials," she said, wiping her fingers on the towel she was holding. "Hopefully whoever is on the other side will know that means it's us and they'll leave us a clue in return."

Clarke turned as she spoke, taking in his obvious frown.

"That's putting a lot of faith in whoever our neighbors are," he said, raising a valid point. "I mean, what if it's Murphy or something? I don't think he can actually read."

She carried the towel out and dropped in the drawer with their dirty clothes. They'd finished breakfast and showering so she pushed both drawers closed, watching to see if there was any angle of light in the shutting of the drawer. There wasn't. The other side of the drawers were secured somehow.

"I don't hear you coming up with any better ideas," she said with a sigh. "We can't just punch our way through the wall or anything."

"I don't solve all my problems with violence, you know," he responded.

Clarke just crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

He ignored her in return, flopping back on the bed. He closed his eyes and tucked his arms back behind his head. He looked relaxed but Clarke knew better.

She knew he was terrified.

He hadn't said as much and he would likely be on his deathbed before he ever admitted to being afraid. But she could read him. The tightness in his jaw, the pinched look around his eyes, his tendency to resort to picking at her…she knew his tells. And she didn't blame him. If they couldn't figure out a way to escape before nightfall, they'd be stuck in the same situation as the previous night. Or so she assumed. That was just another topic they couldn't seem to agree on right now. Bellamy thought the Mountain people would wait to see who was pregnant before they all were gassed again. Clarke wasn't so sure. How would they know who was pregnant yet anyway?

She leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. She'd thought about sitting on the foot of the bed but she was about to start a conversation that she didn't even want to have, let alone sitting within touching distance of him. Very vivid memories of a naked Bellamy hovering over her still gave her chills and she wasn't entirely ready to decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I can almost hear you thinking over there," Bellamy said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Is that right?" she replied. "So what am I thinking about then?"

She looked up to see him watching her expressions. She felt her stomach clench but refused to make herself look away.

"You're worried," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh well that clears it right up, doesn't it?"

"About them gassing us again," he continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"You know what? You're right," she said. "I think we need to have a plan, just in case."

"You mean in case your mirror initials _don't_ manage to break us out before bedtime?"

It was his freaking tone. He was doing that thing, that belittle-everything-Clarke-says-thing that he liked to do when he was feeling insecure. And normally she could brush it off because there were more important things to worry about. But her nerves were frayed and she needed him to work_ with_ her, not against her. Clarke clenched her jaw and stood, stalking over to him. He didn't flinch and that just pissed her off even more. She ripped the pillow out from under his head, enjoying the thud as his head hit the mattress. He jerked up to sitting and tried to grab it back out of her hands but she held firm. Their eyes met and the angry retort on the tip of her tongue faded as she finally got to see beyond the façade a little.

"You're worried, too," she said softly, letting go of the pillow.

His brow furrowed and he tucked the pillow back behind his head again.

She sat on the side of the bed, next to his knees. Neither of them spoke for a very long time.

"Of course I'm worried," he said finally. He draped one arm across his face so she couldn't read his expressions while he talked. "That gas almost killed me last night."

Clarke frowned. "Almost killed you? How?"

With a groan, he sat up again and swung his feet off the opposite side of the bed. Their backs were to each other and while they weren't touching, there couldn't have been more than an inch between them. She could feel the heat coming off of him but she didn't move.

"Because I made you a promise, okay?" he said, his voice thick with emotion that she hadn't been expecting. "And that gas all but stripped that promise right out of my hands. I almost _broke_ that promise. I almost failed you."

Clarke gulped. She waited for a long moment, weighing his words in her mind before she spoke. "And failing me would kill you?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

With that one syllable, that one-word answer, Clarke felt her world tip sideways. She didn't want this. She didn't want him to feel like she was his responsibility. It was too much pressure. Their partnership had always been equal, long before they'd even realized they had a partnership. This promise, one that he couldn't possibly expect himself to keep considering the circumstances, tipped that balance precariously.

"I don't want you to keep it," she said.

"You don't want me to keep what?" he asked. "My promise?"

"Yes," she answered. "It's not fair. Not to you. Not to me."

She could feel him tense up behind her.

"How is it not fair to you?"

Clarke sighed. She wasn't explaining it right. She stood and walked around to the other side of the bed so she could see him. He didn't meet her eyes right away so she waited until he did.

"This is not who we are," she said, repeating words that had been spoken time and again between the two of them. "You don't get to play protector with me. You never have before and I'll be damned if you start now, okay?"

"God, Clarke, this is different. Okay?" he said, throwing his hands up. "Look, if they keep doing this to us, night after night, and you do end up getting pregnant….I mean…" he trailed off, apparently not having words for his side of the argument either.

And then it came to her. She knew what this was about.

"You're afraid that if you get me pregnant against my will that I'll blame you."

His shoulders sagged a little and even if he never confirmed it out loud, she knew she was right.

He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before starting. "If you were forced to have a kid and it was my fault…I'd never get over that. Never."

"But you're not at fault here, Bellamy," she said, dropping to her knees before him so she could see him, eye-to-eye. "The Mountain people are at fault here. And_ if_ that were to happen, it would be their fault. Not yours. I would blame _them_. Do you understand me?"

He met her eyes and she was distraught by the sadness she saw there. The only other time she'd seen this expression was when they had tried to evacuate their camp before the Grounders came. In that moment, she realized that it didn't matter what words she told him. It didn't matter what reasons or excuses or legitimate arguments she made, he would always see himself as being the monster. It was his nature, had been his nature as long as she'd know him.

Bellamy cleared his throat and Clarke sat backwards and scooted to the wall.

"Well, it's not going to get to that point anyway, right?" he said, attempting a smirk. "Your greasy initial message is gonna bust us the hell out of here."

She returned his smirk, knowing that it was more for appearances than anything else. If they couldn't actually feel confident, pretending was the next best thing.

"Damn right."

* * *

><p>They didn't do much more talking for a while after that. Bellamy gave her the bed and she took a nap while she could. Between the cocktail of drugs she'd had in her system over the last twenty-four hours at least and their activities from the previous night, she was still really tired. Her morning shower had reinvigorated her only minimally.<p>

She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep but she was awakened by the sound of the drawers opening. It was the same sound she'd heard that morning. She jerked forward, her heart racing, before she realized that she wasn't in immediate danger.

Bellamy, she noticed, must have been asleep sitting up next to the door because he jerked to attention at the sound too. She hopped out of bed and walked over, a little anxious to see what kind of foods they would have for lunch. The yellow stuff and fried meat for breakfast had been fantastic, even though she wouldn't admit that out loud. She still wasn't sure if they were being watched via camera so she'd been hesitant to show them any appreciation.

She lifted the metal lid to find an empty tray. Almost empty. The only thing on it was a lidded cup with her name written on the side. She picked it up and turned to Bellamy with a question on her lips. But before she could even ask it, a look of recognition came across his face.

"Goddamn Mountain fuckers!" he exclaimed, turning to punch the wall. He didn't so much as make a dent on the wall but she was pretty sure he'd busted at least two of his knuckles.

"What was that you said about _not_ solving all of your issues with violence?" she asked, baiting him even though she knew she shouldn't. She couldn't help it. That look on his face, his current reaction…it was telling. And what it was telling her was not good.

"That's a pregnancy test in your hand there, Princess," he said, pointing his uninjured hand toward the cup she was holding. "They want you to piss in that so they can test whether or not you'll be giving them a kid."

Clarke opened her mouth to say something but froze, staring at him as he paced back and forth like a caged animal. "How do you know that?"

"_I _remember that from when my mom was pregnant with Octavia," he answered. "How do you _not_ know? Your mom's a doctor."

She had a very good response to that but he hadn't stopped to let her get in a word edgewise.

"And I'm guessing they're withholding food until you take the damn thing." He stormed past her and picked the tray up out of the drawer. She could see that he was contemplating throwing it across the room but contented himself with just dropping it back into its resting place.

She narrowed her eyes, watching as he resumed his nervous pacing. The knuckles of his right hand were dripping blood but he didn't seem to notice. It wasn't much but it was stark against the very white floor. Something wasn't right. "What aren't you telling me, Bellamy?"

He froze and closed his eyes for a moment. She could see his fists clenching involuntarily as he answered. "There was one of those sample cups with breakfast."

There it was. He'd been keeping this from her all morning. "And where did it go?"

"Back with the dirty laundry."

She crossed her arms. "You didn't think I should know about this? You didn't think I should know that they're already expecting some of us to be pregnant?"

"I didn't think—"

Clarke scoffed. "Oh, well that's nothing new. You never_ think_, Bellamy."

He turned to her and crossed the few feet between them, grabbing the cup out of her hand. "I didn't _think _you should have to deal with this_ bullshit_. This?" he said, brandishing the cup. "This was my way of freaking protesting, okay?"

With that, he threw the cup back in the drawer and closed it before she could even attempt to fill the sample.

"You're not doing it," he said, his jaw firm.

"You're right," she agreed.

That seemed to actually get through his anger. He had been prepared to argue, not to be agreed with. "What?"

Clarke shrugged and sat down on the foot of the bed. "They want me to be a healthy specimen to carry a baby, right?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that they can't withhold food indefinitely. They'll have to give us something eventually or else risk me not being able to carry a child."

He stared at the place where the drawer had receded. "So you're thinking we wait them out? Keep refusing to take the test until they give us food."

"That's exactly what I'm thinking," she said. "I mean, if you're up for it. We're probably going to get really hungry before they cave."

Bellamy smirked. "Right. Like we've never been hungry before."

It was true. They hadn't always had the best of resources at the drop ship. But it hadn't been for a lack of trying.

"Come here," she said, motioning for him to sit next to her. "I want to look at your hand, Mr. Hotheaded."

"Okay, you suck at nick names," he replied. But he followed her instructions and took his seat next to her.

Clarke took his hand and placed it on her knee while she examined it, determined to ignore the heat that was threatening to creep up her neck. She focused on the split on his middle two knuckles, telling herself that any random reactions her body had to his nearness had to be a residual effect of the gas.

"Well, they aren't deep," she said, leaning forward enough to use the edge of her shirt to wipe the blood away. "They're_ stupid_, but they aren't deep. And they're not likely to get infected here. No grit, grime, or germs to get into the cuts in this cell. On the plus side, you did prove me right."

"About what?"

"About not being able to punch ourselves through the wall."

Bellamy took his hand back and Clarke noticed she had blood on her fingers. She started to wipe them on her pants, like she probably would have done back at the drop ship. But Bellamy stopped her, pulling his shirt off over his head and using it to wipe her hand first. He did so hastily and paying little attention to what he was doing, before tying up the shirt around his fist.

Clarke had to swallow hard as that heat threated to fill her chest. She wasn't comfortable with how her heart was pounding in her ears. This was Bellamy._ Bellamy_, for God's sake. He'd wiped blood off her a half a dozen times. This was nothing new.

"Damn drugs," she muttered to herself.

He just huffed at her comment. If he'd understood what she'd meant, he didn't say. He didn't ask either.

Bellamy stood and moved back over to his seat by the door. He looked lost in thought and Clarke wasn't willing to break the silence just yet.

She laid back, leaving her legs dangling off the end of the bed. They really needed a plan, a better plan than just trying to get in touch with their neighbors because Bellamy was right. Their neighbors could prove to be useless. She needed to figure out if there was a camera and, if so, where it was. She had a feeling that it was to the left of the door from where she was laying, which meant it would have no view of the inside of the bathroom. They would need to use this to their advantage. She hadn't inspected the bathroom properly before. She'd been too interested in the damn shower, which she was now regretting. Maybe if they could find a panel in there that was loose, they could get it off and get behind the walls. Or even into the air ducts. What they could accomplish would rely a lot on whoever was on the other side of the bathroom though. Clarke hoped it would be people they could trust. But she had to come up with a plan that didn't count on them, just in case.

She must have fallen asleep again while she was brainstorming because she was woken sharply by Bellamy shaking her by the shoulder.

"Clarke, put this on your face," he said, shoving his bloody shirt at her as she sat up.

She did as he said without asking questions, watching as he pulled the pillow case off one of their pillows and held it over his mouth and nose.

That's when she heard the hissing. The Mountain people were gassing them again. And it wasn't even night yet this time.

The shirt wasn't working. She could tell. It had been a long shot anyway. She could feel that bittersweet burning sensation tingling low in her belly and she gulped.

"Well that didn't work," Bellamy said, balling up the pillowcase and throwing it across the room.

Clarke dropped her shaking hands to her lap, taking the bloodstained cloth with them. "It was worth a shot," she said. She swallowed hard and turned her eyes toward his.

His pupils were dilated with lust but his expression didn't reflect that. He looked sad. Defeated.

Clarke stood on shaky legs, dropping the shirt. Every step she took toward him was agony but she made herself do it. She needed to do it. For herself. For Bellamy. For the partnership that she was determined would survive beyond this ordeal.

Without taking her eyes off of his, she brought her hands up to his cheeks. She swallowed hard, determined not to look at his lips just yet. If she did, she'd be lost.

"_This_," she said softly. "Is _not_ who we are."

He stared down at her and his defeated demeanor slowly melted away, replaced with the kind of primal hunger that sent shivers down her spine.

"Not who we are," he agreed. He leaned forward, skipping her lips in favor of her neck, laying hot kisses from her ear to her collarbone.

They were both blinded by the need that the gas had instilled within them and as they were carried away by it, Clarke desperately hoped that Bellamy would keep the promise she'd told him he didn't have to keep.

"_My eyes lay heavy. You know already exactly where they fall."_

_Spooky Black "Take the Blame so I Don't Have To"_


	4. Chapter 4

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Four

"Binding"

* * *

><p>Bellamy closed his eyes, his chest still heaving as he laid on the floor. They'd managed to grab the blanket off the bed on their way down so he wasn't forced to lay directly on the cold tile floor. He could still feel the cold, but it hadn't been a priority when the gas had them under its sway.<p>

Now, as it was wearing off, he found himself getting cold and was thankful that Clarke hadn't moved yet. She was draped across his chest, still straddling his hips, with her forehead pressed into his neck. He could feel her shaking from a combination of the drugs and the exertion.

His arms were down by his sides and he fought the urge to bring them up and wrap them around her. Hugging wasn't something they did. He found himself thinking back to their pre-Mountain relationship. Would they have hugged back then? If something had been emotionally draining or physically taxing? He didn't think so. He remembered touching her shoulder or elbow a couple of times and that had been enough. He was pretty sure she'd done about the same for him. Neither of them were particularly affectionate people, as far as he could figure.

So he left his arms down by his side. Or at least he'd planned on leaving them there…until he felt the tell-tale drip of a tear hit neck and roll back behind his shoulder.

"Dammit," Clarke whispered, reaching up to swipe at her cheek. She sniffled and he knew,_ knew_, that putting his arms around her right then would make it worse. But he did it anyway. It was reflex.

He'd been right. As soon as his arms encircled her, the flood came. She buried her face into his neck and sobbed silently until his shoulder was soaked and she was thoroughly spent. It took her a while to get her breathing back in order but he didn't mind. He hadn't even realized he was tracing circles on her back with his thumbs until she shifted and he was forced to stop.

She sat up sniffling and wiping her face with the bottom edge of her shirt. Even though _he_ was naked and they'd had sex twice now, she hadn't taken her shirt off in front of him yet. So he turned his head to the side so that he wouldn't accidently see more of her than she'd intended.

Clarke dropped her shirt back down and sighed but didn't otherwise make any indication that she was going to get up.

"Are you comfortable up there or something?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She sniffled and rolled her eyes at him before reaching over to grab her bottoms. She climbed off of him on shaking arms and donned her clothes, keeping her eyes averted as he did the same.

And then they just laid there, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling.

"You know what? We should sleep down here tonight," she said finally, her voice losing the shaky quality that had been present when she was crying.

"On the floor?" he asked. "Both of us?"

"Mmhmm," she answered, nodding. "In protest. We should push the bed against the wall like a couch and we should make a bed down here on the floor."

"And just let the perfectly good bed go to waste?"

"Yup," she answered, the letter sound popping at the end of the word.

Bellamy nodded. "Alright then. Protest it is."

Apparently she'd meant right then. He pushed himself up on his elbows and watched as she rolled the bed against the wall. She came back with the two pillows and the sheet. She tossed him a pillow and then laid hers next to him. But she didn't lay back down. She spread the sheet over his legs and then went back to the bed, sitting on it as if it really was a couch.

Bellamy laid back on his pillow, his arms tucked behind his head. She'd retreated from him, and it was more than just a physical space there. He'd watched as she reconstructed her internal walls while she worked. It was very much a Clarke-thing, he'd noticed. She would feel something intensely for a moment, and then lock it away. He'd seen her do that with Finn, once Raven had come down. After Wells had died and Charlotte had jumped. When the Exodus ship had crashed, killing her mother. But she'd never done that with him and he didn't like it.

"You have to bend sometimes, Princess," he said finally, watching her face. "There's nothing wrong with that. If you don't bend you'll break."

She rolled her head back and looked up at the ceiling, blinking profusely. "Ha, that's easy for you to say."

"No, it's not. Not to you."

Clarke swiped the back of her hands across her eyes and sniffled again. "So crying is how I bend then?"

He shrugged but she wasn't looking at him. "It's better than _my_ usual reaction."

She laughed but she didn't really sound amused. "Oh, you mean punching inanimate objects?"

"Hey, I only punch walls when there're no people to punch."

"That's real healthy."

"I didn't say it was perfect."

She smiled a little and finally turned her eyes to his. They were red-rimmed and tired and held an appreciation that made his heart beat a little faster.

"Would you come back over here?" he asked. "You're killing my neck sitting up there." He knew it was a flimsy excuse to get her to close that physical gap but she either didn't notice or didn't care.

She sighed and made a big show of climbing off the bed and laying down again. And almost immediately she got back up. He watched as she hunted for his blood-stained shirt from before. She turned her back to him and pulled her shirt off, donning his instead.

"Sorry," she said, tossing her shirt toward where the drawers would open again. "It was wet up the back."

Bellamy felt his neck get warm at the comment, watching as she laid back down next to him, settling in this time. "I guess that's my fault," he said.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad that it's on my shirt instead of…well…"

"Yeah. That was no easy feat either, just so you know."

She sighed. "Yeah."

It was quiet for a while after that. She grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled on it so he adjusted a little closer to her so that she could get under the covers. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as the bed had been but he couldn't deny the satisfaction he felt knowing they were probably pissing off the Mountain people. It might have been a small act of defiance but it didn't matter. They were exercising what free will they had left and it felt good.

"I'm worried about our people," she said quietly. Bellamy had almost thought she was asleep.

He sighed and rolled on his side to face her, waiting for her to continue.

"I mean, if me and you are having this hard of a time, can you imagine some of the others?" she asked, turning her face toward him.

"Honestly, I imagine a lot of them are already pregnant," he answered. "Or are about to be."

"Yeah," she said, facing the ceiling again. "That's what I was thinking too."

He had nothing to add.

After a moment, she continued. "I feel violated. Really violated."

Bellamy felt his throat close up at that statement. She felt violated. He'd been the one to violate her. He'd been the one to put hands on her when she hadn't wanted it. She hadn't asked for his mouth on hers, she hadn't wanted him inside her. This was wrong. This was all wrong and he'd been the one. He'd violated her. She was his friend, maybe his only real friend, and he had done this to her.

Her head snapped toward him again and it was as if he'd spoken his thoughts aloud.

"No," she said, rolling toward him. "Bellamy, that's not what I meant."

But it was said. It had been said and he'd felt it to the very core of his being. He sat up and turned his back to her. He needed a minute. He couldn't even process his thoughts as his heart sped up exponentially.

"Bellamy, that's not what I meant," she repeated. He could hear her sit up and she placed a hand on his shoulder.

But he couldn't stand it. He'd violated her. He shrugged her hand off, propping his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands.

She moved around in front of him and pulled his hands away from his face. "You did not do this," she said forcefully. "This is not your fault. I didn't say that right. _We_ have been violated here, Bellamy. _Both_ of us. We have been violated by _them_."

"I'm the one that put my hands on you," he responded. "That and worse. You didn't want that, Clarke. You know you didn't."

"You are my_ partner_, Bellamy. Do _not_ leave me now."

He scoffed, attempting to pull his hands back but she held them firmly. "Where would I even go?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she said. "Don't do this. You are not the monster here. And I need you."

Bellamy clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. He could feel them prickling and for all the bravado he'd put on about bending he still didn't want to give in to this feeling.

"You don't though," he answered thickly. "Our people…those freaked out kids? They need _you_. Not me."

"That's only half true and you know it."

He shook his head, disbelievingly.

"When we got to the ground, I was prepared to give them instructions. You gave them _freedom_. Something they'd never had before. And when they were free to choose who to follow, they chose you. You are a symbol of their freedom, whether they realize that or not."

"And how well has that worked out?"

She sighed softly and he opened his eyes, blinking back the tingling. "That's part of the reason I need you now. When we get out of here, they'll need you to lead them back to freedom."

He considered this for a moment, weighing her words and deciding that if she could be hopeful after all of this, maybe he could be too.

"What's the other part?"

"The other part of what?"

He shrugged. "You said that was part of the reason you need me. What's the other part?"

She reached forward and grabbed his face in both her hands. The motion felt more intimate than anything he'd experienced with Clarke before and his throat went dry.

"The other part is purely selfish," she said. "I don't _want_ to do this without you. You are important. And if you won't believe that you're important to them, just know that you _are_ important. To me. Got it?"

And just like that, he did. He felt his heart swell up. She might be the only person on the planet that didn't see him as a monster, who knew what he was capable of and what he'd done and still believed in him. That look in her eyes, he knew it. He felt it too. He was hers and she was his and it didn't have to be romantic to be strong and true.

"Got it," he said thickly. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his forehead and just as wrapping his arms around her had broken her walls, that simple gesture broke his. He didn't even know where all the tears came from but he knew that she wouldn't say a word about it.

* * *

><p>Bellamy was laying back on the bed, trying to seem indifferent as Clarke opened the bathroom door and excused herself inside. He didn't want to give anything away to the Mountain people who were probably watching their every move. The dinner drawer had come and gone with another empty cup and no actual food. He knew they had to be getting antsy at this point. He hoped that some of their people were also protesting but they had no way of knowing. He was already hungry, seeing as he'd mostly skipped breakfast and neither of them had eaten lunch. But he wasn't about to admit that out loud. He didn't want Clarke second-guessing their decision to protest just because he was a little hungry.<p>

He listened as she turned on the shower and waited with every ounce of patience he possessed for her to tell him whether or not the initials message had been received.

"Ha!" she finally exclaimed, her voice echoing in the tiled room. "It worked! Bellamy, I can't believe it but it worked. There's a new message here."

He got up slowly and ambled to the bathroom, leaning in the doorway. He attempted to look nonchalant, crossing his arms. "What's it say?" he asked. He couldn't see the mirror well from where he was standing with his back to where they'd decided the camera must be.

"It says "J.J. A. RUOK."

He frowned. "You have any idea what that means?"

"I think J.J. is Jasper Jordan. Jasper is over there and he's asking if we're okay," she said. "But who is A?"

"That grounder princess, wasn't her name Anya?"

He turned to see Clarke's eyes go wide. "Oh my God," she said. "Yeah, she was on the drop ship when we fired the rockets. She was with us when the Mountain people came with the gas. Jasper is in there with her? She's gonna_ kill_ him."

Bellamy shrugged. "Maybe not. I mean, he lived long enough to get a message to you."

"Well I guess there's that," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not sure what they wrote with. I don't think it was grease though."

He decided it wouldn't be horribly alerting if he just went into the bathroom with her so he did, moving over to touch the words on the mirror. He brought his fingers up to his nose. "I think this is soap."

Clarke rolled her eyes as if she should have known that. "Of course. You know, that makes more sense than the grease and isn't so out of place either. That'll keep us from having to wait for a meal in order to send them another message."

She sighed and reached over to turn off the shower. "But we _will_ have to wait until they send us more clothes and towels. I can't wash and dry the mirror without towels. And it'll have to be dry for the soap to get a clear message across."

They left the bathroom together and as they did, the lights dimmed.

Bellamy felt Clarke go still beside him and he knew she was waiting for the same thing he was. For the gas to start.

But it didn't. The regular vent kicked on and that was it.

"Huh," he said, taking this as a sign that it was safe to move on. He took his spot on the right-hand side of their make-shift bed. "I guess that dose earlier was enough for the night."

Clarke made her space next to him, slipping under the sheet while he held it up for her. "Apparently," she said, lying on her side so that she was facing him.

But they were both still tense, neither completely sure that they were right. He felt like at any minute that gas was going to start pouring out again.

"I don't know what's worse," Clarke finally said, yawning. "Being gassed or being stuck waiting for the next batch."

Bellamy rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. The question that her words had brought to his mind was entirely inappropriate but he found that he couldn't keep himself from asking anyway.

"Is it really that bad?" he asked, trying for casual. "You know, being together?"

She was quiet for a lot longer than he'd hoped, long enough to pray on his insecurities.

"It wouldn't be so bad, I think, if we were consciously making the choice," she said, picking her words carefully.

Bellamy smirked in the darkness. "You sound like a Counselor."

"What do you mean?"

"Like your dancing around what you're trying to say."

She scoffed. "Okay, well then so do you. You asked that question in the safest possible way."

"Okay, you want direct?" he asked. "Is the sex good?"

He rolled his eyes toward hers and he saw her grin before she looked away, trying and failing to wipe the expression off her face. "Yes," she said. "How's that for a politician answer?"

"That," he responded, "Was a leader's answer."

She laughed. "So being a leader is about being honest about good sex?"

"Being a leader is about answering a direct question with a direct answer."

Clarke seemed to think about that for a moment. He could see the wheels in her head turning and knew her well enough to know he'd stoked her ego a little.

"Okay," she said, turning her eyes back to his. "As long as we're being honest and asking direct questions, is the sex good for you, too?"

"You sure you don't want my politician answer?" he asked with a smirk.

"Bellamy."

"Yes, Princess," he said, laughing at her expression. "It is. It really is."

He thought he glanced a quick smug look on her face before it broke into another yawn. "We should get some sleep while we have the chance," he said. He rolled on his back and tucked his arms back behind his head. "Who knows whether or not they'll decide to dose us in the middle of the night."

"Good point," she answered, rolling on her other side away from him. And then she had to scoot back toward him in order to stay under the sheet. He moved a little close to her too, until her back was almost against his side.

He found himself yawning and desperately wished he could take his own advice. But he could tell Clarke had more she wanted to say. The silence in the air hung heavy between them but he waited, letting her take the time she needed to phrase whatever it was she had on her mind.

"I'm glad it's you," she said quietly. "That you're the one in here with me. I…don't think I'd be handling this nearly as well if I'd been in here with someone I didn't trust."

"You don't wish it was Finn?" he asked, immediately regretting the question.

But she didn't even hesitate. "No. I mean, I like Finn. For a while I _really_ liked him. But I don't trust Finn like I trust you. And I need _that_ more than anything right now."

Bellamy wasn't sure when he'd earned that trust but he'd take it. He'd rather be trusted than liked any day of the week.

"Okay, you're totally gonna rub that in his face the next time you see him, aren't you?" she said. Even though he couldn't see her, he knew she was smiling.

"Oh yeah," he replied. "I've been waiting for a while to have one-up on Spacewalker."

She laughed lightly and shook her head, burrowing her face into her pillow a little more.

It was quiet again for a while and this time he knew it meant that she'd fallen asleep.

He took the opportunity to shift a little more, pressing his side to her back. In her sleep, she relaxed against him. With a long sigh and a yawn, he was finally able to let himself drift off too.

"_That these are the days that bind you together, forever. And these little things define you forever."_

_Bastille "Bad Blood"_


	5. Chapter 5

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Five

"Over the Edge"

* * *

><p>Clarke was jerked awake by the door to their room banging open, echoing loudly in the small space. She'd barely registered that there were people in their room when she was roughly jerked up by her arms by two men in black body armor and facemasks. The room was unusually dark and the men were hard to distinguish in the gloom.<p>

"What are you doing?" Clarke asked frantically, her head whipping around to see another pair of men securing Bellamy's hands behind his back while he struggled violently. "Why are you doing this? We didn't do anything. What are you doing to us?"

"Clarke!" Bellamy bellowed as the men started dragging her backwards toward the door.

"No!" she shrieked, trying to dig her bare feet into the floor but completely unable to get traction on the tile. "No! Bellamy!" she screamed, watching as one of the men hit him with the butt of the gun he was holding.

Bellamy crumpled to his knees, blood spouting from a gash on the side of his forehead. His eyes searched for her wildly and their terrified gaze met for a second before the shot rang out.

Clarke watched as Bellamy slumped forward in slow motion. Her world spun before her and she felt herself falling. Falling endlessly, watching the light dim in his eyes.

Hands grabbed her shoulders and she struggled blindly against them, refusing to go quietly.

"Clarke!" someone shouted at her, a voice she recognized, and she knew she should listen but she couldn't. Behind her now-closed eyes she could only see Bellamy falling forward, dead before his head could hit the ground. It was vivid and hideous and would be a sight that would never leave her mind. Never.

Those hands shook her again. "Clarke, you have got to wake up. Clarke!"

Reluctantly she opened her eyes, sure she was about to see the aftermath of that gunshot before her. But she was wrong.

"God, Princess, you were really freaking out," Bellamy said, panting and sitting back now that he was sure she was awake.

Clarke didn't even hesitate to throw herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on to him for all she was worth. He seemed stunned for a moment but then slowly adjusted, hugging her in return if for no other reason than to keep himself from falling over with the force of her affection.

She was shaking. She could feel it. That dream had been the most realistic one she'd ever had in her life. Her heart was thudding loudly in her ears and she couldn't help but take her breaths in broken gasps. She managed to keep tears at bay but only just.

"You were just dreaming, I promise," he said, his chin bumping the top of her head as he spoke. "I take it that wasn't a good one?"

Clarke couldn't even make herself speak just yet, shaking her head in response to his question.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she said softly.

He paused for a second. "You wanna lay back down?"

"Also no," she said, remembering for the first time that he was shirtless and noticing that her lips were brushing the hollow of his neck every time she spoke.

"I hate to break this to you, but you're killing my legs," he replied, loosening his hold on her a little. She could take a hint and let go of him, however reluctantly, and sat back. He grimaced and stretched out his legs.

"Sorry," she said, propping her elbows up on her knees and rubbing her face with her hands for a moment. "I didn't mean to attack you like that."

He laughed softly and Clarke peeked through her fingers.

"I've survived a lot worse," he said. He flopped back down on his side of their improvised bed.

It was quiet for a while after that. She stayed sitting and he stayed laying. She couldn't see his face but she was a little thankful for that at the moment. She was really embarrassed about her reaction to seeing him alive, now that she had time to process that she'd been dreaming.

Bellamy was the one to finally break the silence. "You screamed and I woke up thinking we were being attacked by Grounders," he said. "You screamed my name."

Clarke took a deep breath, the vision of Bellamy falling lifeless before her eyes etched into her soul regardless of whether or not it had been a dream. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I dreamed that…that you…"

"You don't have to tell me," he said. "If it was that bad, maybe you shouldn't."

Clarke flopped back, her hands still covering her face as she laid there on her back. She had a feeling that he was worried the dream involved him attacking her. That she'd called out his name because she'd been afraid _of _him, not afraid _for_ him. As much as she didn't want to talk about it, she couldn't let him go on thinking that she was afraid of him, even if it had only been a dream.

"I dreamed that they shot you, okay? That the guys in suits and masks came in and started to drag me away and then they just shot you. I thought you were dead."

"It was just a dream."

"You don't understand," she said. "When I closed the drop ship door, when we had to fry the Grounder army, I thought it was going to get you, too. I thought for sure it had."

"Yeah, but I wasn't dead then either."

She rolled on her side, finally dropping her hands so she could look at him. "But I didn't know that. I know what it feels like to think you're dead, okay? And it's bad. It's really bad."

Bellamy's forehead furrowed and he propped himself up on one elbow. He didn't seem to know what to say to that. She wasn't even sure why she felt compelled to tell him, only that keeping it to herself had finally been more than she was willing to bear alone.

Eventually, he turned that half-smile on her, the one he used when he was ready to shrug something off. Somehow she knew it wasn't a dismissal thought, but rather a coping technique of his own. He didn't know how to fix this for her. He didn't know how to erase that feeling.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I might start thinking you liked me, Princess."

She laughed. It wasn't a real laugh but it was far better than crying, which was the alternative. "I refuse to stroke your overly-inflated ego," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that's what your groupies are for."

"What?" he scoffed. "I don't have groupies."

"Well then what do _you_ call all those girls who hang around your tent all the time?"

He seemed to think for a minute and then shook his head, grinning ruefully. "Okay, groupies would definitely be better than that I call them."

"Fuck buddies?"

"Princess," he said, sounding scandalized. "Did you just use a swear word?"

She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Is that really so weird? The idea that I know and might actually use swear words on occasion?"

Bellamy just laughed and laid back down. "To me? Not really. I'm pretty sure everyone else would think you were possessed though."

"I'll just tell them you're rubbing off on me," she suggested. She reached over and pulled the sheet back up.

They didn't talk for a while. Clarke found herself stealing glances as him. Well, staring at him really, if she was going to be honest with herself, memorizing the contours of his face from the side, counting freckles. Anything to keep herself from falling asleep again. Anything to reassure herself that he wasn't dead. He was living and breathing despite everything they'd been through. He wasn't asleep but he did have his eyes closed, thinking. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking about. She had half a dozen questions she wanted to ask him, a few more important than the others, but she couldn't bring herself to break the quiet of the moment.

"Just go back to sleep," he said without opening his eyes. She had no idea how he'd known she was awake. "I'll still be here when you wake up, okay?"

She pursed her lips, deciding that one of these questions needed answering tonight. "How can you forgive me?"

Bellamy's eyes opened and met hers in the darkness. "Forgive you? For what?"

"For closing the drop ship door with you still out there."

He frowned and rolled toward her. "There's nothing to forgive there, Clarke. You did what you had to do. To protect our people."

"But you could have died," she countered. "I thought I was killing you."

He reached over and grabbed her chin, making sure she couldn't look away. "You did what you had to do. You don't need me to forgive you. You do need to forgive yourself, though. Stop beating yourself up over this, Princess."

On an impulse, she reached up and grabbed that hand, holding it tight. "Yeah. Okay, yeah. You're right."

He squeezed her hand in return for just a moment before withdrawing it. "Besides, I need you on your game so we can get the hell out of here."

Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. "Right. Okay. You're right. We're going to figure that out tomorrow."

He smirked. "You know, if you keep telling me I'm right, I'm gonna have to assume the gas has scrambled your brain."

She snickered and rolled over, facing away from him again. "If I keep _thinking_ you're right, I'm going to start worrying about that myself."

He laughed softly and she felt him scoot toward her until his side was pressed against her back. She relaxed into him a little and finally felt like she was safe to go back to sleep.

* * *

><p>Clarke was really starting to feel the hunger from their protest. When both of the morning drawers opened again and didn't hold food, she pursed her lips in frustration. She didn't say anything about it though. She didn't want Bellamy second-guessing their protest just because she was a little hungry. She would rather be hungry than bow down to these mysterious Mountain people. They closed that drawer without even touching the cup.<p>

The other drawer held their daily towels and a fresh change of clothes. Clarke was inwardly very thankful for that. Besides the obvious reason, the opportunity to leave their neighbors another message, she was really glad that Bellamy would have a shirt to wear again. It was a far too tempting sight to have him shirtless around her all the time. She was really starting to wonder if the gas they'd been exposed to was supposed to work on multiple layers to trick them into procreating. Otherwise, she couldn't explain her sudden interest in his shirtlessness.

Bellamy stayed out on the bed while she wet her dirty clothes and used them to scrub away Jasper's message. She didn't bother trying to dry it yet because they both still needed to shower. With that chore taken care of, she ran the water in the shower, stepping into the stream with a contented sigh. She was seriously going to have to figure out how to make one of these back at camp once they escaped.

She had just finished rinsing the soap out of her hair when she heard Bellamy dart into the bathroom.

"Hey," he said, breathlessly. "Turn away. I'm coming in there."

"What?" she asked, eyes wide as she did what he asked.

He jerked the curtain open and she was bumped to the back a little as he climbed into the shower, still clad in his shorts from the previous day.

Clarke crossed her arms over her chest just in case. She had her back to him but he was taller than her so she had no idea what he could see and what he couldn't. "What the hell, Bellamy?"

"The gas came on," he said. "And I can't close the door from the inside."

"Oh," she replied. "So we're testing if the water will keep the gas from affecting us?"

He probably shrugged but she couldn't see him. She glanced back over her shoulder and found that he had his back to her. Water was trickling between his tanned shoulder blades, dripping over freckles. With a quick flicker of her eyes, she realized that wet white shorts didn't leave much to the imagination.

She whipped her head back around quickly before he could catch her ogling him. Her cheeks were flushed and she felt the tell-tale tingles of heat in her gut.

Clearing her throat, she asked, "Is the gas bothering you?"

He had to think about it for a second. "I can't tell."

She frowned. "What do you mean you can't tell? Are you turned on or not?"

She could feel the spray of the water adjust as he shifted from side to side a little. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because, Princess," he answered. "I'm standing in a hot shower with a very attractive, very naked girl. If I wasn't…feeling that…I wouldn't be human. So I don't know if it's the gas or if it's just…you know…_you_."

Clarke felt her heart speed up and she realized he was right. Those feelings of arousal she could detect in herself weren't as strong as when the gas hit but seemed entirely outside of her usual physical reactions to him. Granted, she knew what he had to offer now and that knowledge could be affecting her reaction.

"Okay," she said, steeling herself to ask the question. "From one leader to another, direct questions and answers. What do we do now?"

He took a second to think about that. "You're gonna have to break that down a little more if you want an actual answer."

Clarke bumped her forehead against the cool tile at the back of the shower, thinking. "Okay. I feel the same way that you do. I'm not sure if the…arousal…I feel is from the gas or from you just being in the shower with me."

"Which means we're both…being aroused?"

"Yes."

"And it might not be because of the gas."

"Also yes."

"And you want to know what we should do about that."

"Right."

He groaned and the sound made Clarke bite her bottom lip. Hard.

"Well, if it isn't the gas, that means we have some freewill here to work with," he finally said.

She nodded and then realized he couldn't see that. "Right."

"So we can choose not to act on it."

"Or we could act because we _wanted_ to act on it," Clarke said, closing her eyes while she waited for his answer to that.

He was quiet for a while after that and Clarke could feel herself starting to shake. She'd been out of the stream of water for a while now and although the steam from the shower seemed to be keeping the gas at bay, it wasn't really keeping her warm. She didn't want to admit that the shaking could be because she was nervous.

"Do you…want to act on it?" he asked softly.

She swallowed. "Honestly, I'm a little torn on the subject."

"Walk me through it," he said. His tone suggested he could be talking about anything from tracking to stitching a wound, certainly not what they were actually talking about.

"Physically, I'd like to explore that idea," she said, feeling more and more like a politician as she spoke. "But I'm worried about messing up…whatever it is we are to each other."

He took a little while to think about this and in the meantime, Clarke's shaking turned to full-blown shivers.

"While you're thinking about it," she interjected into his train of thought. "Could we trade places? I'm getting cold over here."

"Oh. Yeah, sure," he answered.

The two of them kept their backs to each other as they rotated places and Clarke was back in the stream of water. It felt so good against her chilled skin that she sighed contentedly, only belatedly thinking that making such sounds seemed to make his…physical feelings…that much worse.

"I think I agree with you," he finally said. "On both parts."

She frowned and was glad that he couldn't see her pouting a little. "I guess that means we're choosing to not act then, right?"

He sighed heavily from behind her and she realized that this decision was just as hard for him as it was for her. "I guess so."

"I honestly didn't know you were such a gentleman," she said in a teasing tone, trying to cover up her disappointment.

He laughed. "Only for you Princess."

"Well aren't I the lucky one then," she grumbled, which made him laugh again.

She jumped a little when she felt his bare back press against hers. Her heart sped up a bit and her breath caught in her throat but she didn't move away. She maintained the contact.

"There's no rulebook for this," he said and she could feel his shoulders sag a little. "I don't know what the right thing is."

She dropped her hands to her side, reaching back and taking one of his in hers. "I don't know either," she admitted as he laced his fingers through hers.

They would get through this though, she knew they would. They would get messages out to the others. They'd figure out how to escape. They'd leave this mountain and take whoever they could with them. Maybe they wouldn't go back to the drop ship, with its macabre field of burned corpses. They would rebuild and take it a step at a time, one disaster at a time, until they could finally just…live. That would be the time to explore this. Right now, with their next meal an uncertainty and their captors a mystery…was not the time to indulge.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder and felt him turn and lay a tender kiss on her temple. And in that moment, she knew that the when didn't really matter. What mattered was that they would get the chance to choose it.

"_With broken words I've tried to say, Honey don't you be afraid. If we got nothing we got us."_

_OneRepublic "Something I Need"_


	6. Chapter 6

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Six

"Me and You"

* * *

><p>For Bellamy, the waiting and inactivity were the hardest parts of their confinement. When he'd been on the Ark, he'd had a very rigorous exercise routine while he was training to be a cadet. He continued that, even after being kicked out and demoted to janitor. If for no other reason, it was a release for him. Running or lifting weights gave him a way to work off all his physical frustration at having to be subservient to the people who had killed his mother and locked up his sister. Once they'd gotten to the ground, he hadn't needed to exercise for the sake of physical activity. Just trying to survive had been exercise enough.<p>

And now he was back to needing it as a release.

They'd left a message for Jasper, asking if they could get ahold of a spoon. Bellamy had been a little confused at first as to why they needed a spoon, of all things. But then Clarke had shown him that the air vent panel above the back of the toilet was attached with flat-head screws rather than bolts. If they could get ahold of a spoon, they could loosen the screws and possibly get the heck out of this mountain stronghold.

That was assuming Jasper and Anya weren't protesting the way they had been. There was no way of telling until they heard back.

Just in case, Clarke had kept one of the towels out of the dirty laundry, throwing it over the shower curtain rod to dry. They didn't want to have to wait to send the next message, should they get one before the end of the day.

With all their plans completed, they were stuck waiting again. Bellamy had really slept all he could sleep and talked all that he could talk. Clarke didn't seem particularly talkative after their weird shower anyway. Once they'd finished writing out the message, she'd retreated over to the couch and seemed entirely lost in thought.

He'd initially thought about just pacing but the space wasn't very large and he seemed to remember that she'd told him to stop doing that a few times before. It made her nervous.

So he fell to doing pushups. He lost count after fifty-something, focused on meticulously maintaining his form as his arms and chest started to burn. Once he was sure he'd done more than a hundred, he stopped to stretch and found himself glancing over at Clarke.

She had gotten off the couch and was sitting on the floor next to the bathroom door. She had her back to him so he wasn't really sure what she was up to.

He laid back and started doing sit-ups. But after only a few dozen, his curiosity started to get the best of him.

"What…are….you…doing?" he asked between sit-ups.

"I'm making paint," she replied. "I'm bored."

He sat up and stopped, his brow furrowed. "Making paint out of what?"

"Blood."

"What?"

She turned to look over her shoulder. "It's not much blood, sheesh. I picked a scab. I'm going to paint something on the wall over here," she paused and turned back to what she was doing. "I told you. I'm bored."

"Let me get this straight," he said, still not entirely believing what he was hearing. "You're bored so you're going to finger paint on the wall with your own blood."

She laughed. "You know, when you say it that way it makes me sound crazy."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, if the shoe fits…"

Clarke turned to face him and he could see that she had indeed picked at a scab on her elbow. She was right that it wasn't much but he still didn't like the idea of her bleeding. For any reason.

"Drawing or painting is what I always did, back on the Ark," she said. "You know, when I needed to…I don't know. Get away, I guess."

Bellamy rested his arms on his knees. "I get that. But blood? Really?"

She shrugged. "I don't have anything else and I'm getting antsy. I didn't think you had an issue with blood."

"I mean, I don't," he replied. "Not usually. But it's _your_ blood."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, crossing her arms. "That my blood is somehow more important than someone else's?"

"Well, no. It's just that it's supposed to stay_ in_ you," he answered.

She smirked. "Go back to your exercise. My painting is going to be beautiful."

"I swear to God, if you try to cut yourself open to get more art supplies, we're gonna have problems," he said, laying back down.

Clarke laughed and went back to her work, despite how it made Bellamy's skin crawl a little.

But he was curious. He couldn't help it. Every time he sat up again, he checked her progress, watching as she used red, sticky fingers to paint a picture of their drop ship camp, back before it had become a graveyard.

She had been right about it being beautiful. In the moments when he could imagine it was paint rather than blood, he couldn't help but be impressed by her talent. A smudge here or a touch there and she'd managed to render their home in recognizable detail. The time it was taking for her to paint it was longer than the amount of sit-ups he could actually do so eventually he just stopped to watch her work.

He hadn't said anything when she'd resorted to picking at a different scab, getting more "paint" to work with. But when that scab started to dry up too, he made a decision.

Flexing his hand tightly, the cuts on the tops of his knuckles burst open. They wouldn't bleed for long so he crossed the floor and took a seat next to her, propping his hand up on her knee.

She looked like she was coming out of some kind of daze, like she'd forgotten he was even there. "What did you do?" she asked, looking at the fine trickle of crimson on the back of his hand.

He shrugged. "You were running out of art supplies," he said, gesturing to the scab on her knee. "And I didn't want you to resort to opening a vein."

She pursed her lips and looked at his hand doubtfully for a moment. With a long sigh and a rolling of her eyes, she dabbed at the blood on his hand and went back to work on her scene.

He found himself oddly relaxed while watching her work. Maybe it had been his previous workout, burning off unnecessary adrenaline. But as he watched her smudge and shape and shade, he fell into the same trance she was in. He couldn't help but think back to their days back at the drop ship. Most of them had been full of strife and danger but there had been a few that weren't as bad as the others. He hadn't seen her much on those off days and he wondered how much art she'd created back at the camp and how much of it had been destroyed when they'd fired the rockets.

Eventually, she sat back, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. A smear of red was left in its wake, his blood on her face, and he felt compelled to wipe it off himself. But then he checked his reaction, told himself that he wouldn't have done that back at the drop ship, and resolved to tell her about it instead.

"There," she said, admiring her handy work. "Let's see them try to get _that_ off their precious white wall."

Bellamy couldn't help the surge of pride he felt when he looked at the painting. "You're really talented," he said. "I had no idea."

She smirked and stood, trying the bathroom door. It opened and they both held their breath as she tried the shower to see if their message had been received. But it hadn't, or so they could assume. The message hadn't been wiped and there were no new words in their place. So she went about washing the blood off her hands and, as she noticed it was on her face, washing there as well.

"You know," she said as she came out, shutting the door behind her. "You're a lot nicer to me when there's no one else around."

Bellamy crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "Am I?"

"Mmhmm," she said, sitting on their couch and scooting back toward the wall. "I noticed it back at camp, too. What's with that?"

He shrugged. "The others needed that."

"Needed what?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "For you to mock my every word?"

He shook his head with a smirk. "No. They couldn't see us getting along all the time. It would mess with their perception of how this—" he said with a gesture between them. "How this all works."

Clarke mimicked his gesture between them. "You're gonna have to explain what 'this' is."

"We were able to lead them because we were opposite," he replied. "I was a man of action and you were the forethought. You were left and I was right. So they knew that if we actually agreed on something, it must be the right thing to do."

She seemed to think about this for a minute before she nodded.

"If they thought we got along, if they thought we were friends or that we were working together too closely…"

And that's when she got it. "Then they'd start wondering if we were making choices for us instead of choices for them."

"Exactly."

"And you had that all worked out on your own, huh?"

Bellamy shrugged. "Would it be so unbelievable if I had?"

She laughed. "I guess not. But then that means you can sometimes be the 'forethought.' Guess that means I need to be the 'action' occasionally?"

"Whatever floats your boat, Princess," he answered with a grin.

She smiled that genuine, rare smile and leaned her head back against the wall, staring at her painting again. After a while she turned her eyes back to his. "Thanks. You know, for the art supplies. For humoring me."

He just shrugged. He didn't know what to say to that. But he did know that if they didn't hold on to these little pieces of who they were, it wouldn't take long to lose everything else. They had to keep it together if they were going to get out of here. If a bloody finger-painting was what it took to keep her spirits up, to keep her from losing little parts of herself…well a set of bloody knuckles was a small price to pay.

* * *

><p>Lunch and dinner had both come and gone with no food and no return messages from Jasper. By the time the lights went dim, they were both a little disheartened. They didn't speak much for most of the evening and settled down to sleep without a word.<p>

She'd backed up against his side again and instead of tucking his arm behind his head which wasn't always comfortable, he slid his arm under her pillow. She'd stiffened a little at first but then relaxed again, adjusting her shoulder so she wouldn't cut off the circulation to his arm.

Bellamy had no way of knowing how long they'd been asleep. He was pulled from his sleep slowly to find himself with his arms wrapped around her, his face tucked into the space by her neck and her body nicely nestled back into his.

He placed a kiss there on her neck and she rewarded him with a soft sigh. She turned her head away a little, giving him more space to work. He took the opportunity to kiss his way across her shoulder, pushing the edge of her shirt out of the way with his nose as he sought that tender spot above her collarbone. She gasped and pushed her body back into him, making him aware of how turned on he was. His hand slipped under the edge of her shirt to cup her breast and she moaned, reaching back to sink her fingernails into his thigh.

And then they froze. It was as if they'd both come awake at the same moment, hearing the hissing sound of the gas coming out and flowing over them.

"Dammit," Bellamy said softly, resting his forehead on her shoulder and removing his hand from underneath her shirt. "I…uh…"

"It's okay," she said quickly. "It's the gas…and we weren't all the way awake…"

"Right. But still."

She shook her head slightly and he could feel her shaking.

He swallowed hard, breathing in her scent and making his body ache that much more. "Is…uh. Is this worse than usual?"

Clarke seemed to take a moment to think about this and he could tell, since he was still pressed against her, that she was clenching her legs together with trembling thighs.

"I don't know if the gas is stronger," she said breathily. "Or if it's just messing with us more because we aren't all the way awake. Inhibitions are lower."

"That makes sense."

"Mmhmm."

He took a moment to breath but it was no good. There was no freewill here tonight. "Okay, we're gonna have to…"

"Yeah. Yeah we are."

He reached down with his free hand to push his shorts out of the way and Clarke moved to do the same. But when she started to turn toward her he stopped her with a hand on her hip.

She sent him a questioning glance over his shoulder but he didn't say anything. He lifted her leg and propped it on his hip as he slid himself inside her.

Clarke groaned and began to move with him, rocking her hips and adjusting her leg so he could hit the right spots. He went back to her shoulder, nipping and sucking along her pulse point.

"Oh," she exclaimed as he bit down on her earlobe. "God. _Bellamy_."

And that was all it took to rock them both over the edge. He clenched his jaw and managed to pull out and finish himself on the inside of her thigh.

Neither of them had spoken before, during this. It was also the first time they hadn't maintained eye contact the whole time either. What had started as a reaction to the awful aphrodisiac gas had turned far more intimate than either of them had really intended.

"Sorry," Clarke said quietly, still shaking a little. "That…was probably inappropriate."

Bellamy laughed. "This whole damn situation is inappropriate. But it's not really something we can control so I guess we should both stop apologizing for things we can't help."

"I'll try to stop if you will."

He nodded against her shoulder. After a long sigh, he rolled himself on his back. Clarke took this as her opportunity to get cleaned up and she reached forward, grabbing her discarded shorts and underwear.

Normally this was the point where he would look away, focus on getting himself back together, finding clothes and cleaning up. But he couldn't seem to make his eyes move and he watched as she used her underwear to clean off her thighs before slipping her shorts back on without them. She glanced back over her shoulder and caught him but he couldn't even find it in him to be embarrassed about it.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" she asked, eyebrow raised. She was purposefully keep eye contact with him so he would know where she was looking and where she wasn't.

He shrugged. "I'm really tired. I don't even feel like moving," he answered. It was the absolute truth and he realized that it might have even been the reason he hadn't looked away as she dressed. What was it she had said about lowered inhibitions?

Clarke rolled her eyes and reached across him to grab his shorts for him. As she did, her breasts brushed over his chest and he felt something low and primal roll through him. It hadn't been but moments ago, really, that he'd held one of those perfect breasts in his hand. He'd never forget that feeling, the soft flesh yielding to his fingers and her groan of approval. She dropped his shorts on his hands and he scrambled to put them back on before she happened to notice his current state of arousal. Again.

But the gas was off. Clarke didn't seem like she was being unduly affected. She'd resumed her usual sleeping position and although she was incredibly tense, it didn't seem like it was because she was having lingering side effects.

He couldn't just lay here like this. It was incredibly uncomfortable. He tried shifting a little but it did no good. He tried to think of the smell of frying Grounders, or Jasper's oozing chest wound, or Murphy's hemorrhagic fever. But nothing was dissuading his body.

After another few minutes, he relented and got out of bed, stalking over to the bathroom switch.

"You okay?" Clarke asked as he tried the switch. And then tried it again.

They'd never tried to get into the bathroom at night. Either their neighbors were currently using it or it wasn't available to them at night. He had no way of knowing which.

"Not really," he said, leaning his forehead against the wall. "I needed in the bathroom but it's locked."

"Oh, well that sucks," she responded, sitting up. "Can you hold it until morning?"

"That's not why I needed in there," he replied.

"Well then I'm confused," she said. "Why else would you need in there?"

He laughed shakily, his fists clenching by his sides. "I need in there because apparently I am an idiot."

"I could have told you that," she replied. "But why specifically this time?"

Bellamy took a deep breath and remembered his talk with her about leaders. "You remember that issue we were both having in the shower earlier?"

"Yeah," she answered. And then she got it. "Oh."

"…and you aren't having any issues right now?"

"No."

"So then it isn't a residual gas effect."

He looked over his shoulder to see her shaking her head.

"That's just great," he muttered to himself, knocking his forehead against the wall a couple of times.

Clarke cleared her throat. "So you needed the bathroom for…privacy then?"

"Yes, Princess," he replied. "You want me to explain the whole thing?"

"You could do that out here, if you needed to," she said without missing a beat.

He laughed and turned to face her, meeting her eyes for the first time since he'd gotten up. "And you don't think that would be a little awkward?"

She shrugged. "How much more awkward could it get in here?"

She made a good point. But he just didn't think he could, not when the object of his irrational desire was sitting a few feet away from him. He shook his head.

Clarke pushed herself up to standing and crossed the room toward him, causing his throat to go dry.

"Then let me help," she said.

"This is not the time for jokes," he replied.

She shook her head, closing the last few feet between them. "I'm not joking. Look. You're uncomfortable and clearly suffering. Let me help."

He scoffed. "A pity handjob? Yeah, I don't think so. No thanks."

She frowned and poked him in the chest. "That's not what this is. This is a friend helping a friend."

"It's obligatory."

"It's compassionate."

"It's inappropriate."

"I thought we were done worrying about and apologizing for things that are inappropriate."

Bellamy closed his eyes and knocked his head back against the wall. In any other situation, all of this arguing with a girl would have killed the mood for him. But this was not just some other girl. This was Clarke. And, if he were to be honest with himself, it wasn't the first time that their arguing had gotten under his skin.

He gulped, feeling his resolve slipping. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You aren't," she countered. "I'm offering. Insisting, really. I'm exercising my free will."

"Thought we weren't going to mess with that."

She laughed softly. "Yeah, that was always a long-shot and you knew it."

He smirked. He couldn't help it. But that smirk was quickly dropped at the feeling of her hand slipping within the waistband of his shorts. There were words of protest on the tip of her tongue, words that were completely dissolved by the feeling of her small, warm hand wrapping around him.

"Don't fight me on this," she said, leaning forward to brace her free hand on the wall next to him.

Bellamy just shook his head. He didn't even have words.

This couldn't have been the first time she'd done this, he realized. There was a certain skill to the rhythm she chose, the rotation, the changes in how she gripped him. He'd never really thought about her previous sexual experience. But in this moment, he was endlessly thankful that she seemed to have some because it wasn't taking her very long to turn him into a quivering mess.

"Clarke," he said, his voice trembling, trying to tell her that he was nearing the end. She acknowledged this by moving a half-step closer to him and speeding up her pace. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. It was the pride on her face, knowing that she was helping him and that she was good at it, that was more than he could stand. He gasped and finished on the inside of his shorts, drenching her hand since she hadn't moved it out of the way.

He bumped his head back against the wall again and she laughed lightly, pulling his hand from his shorts and wiping her hand on the edge of her shirt. "If you keep doing that you're going to end up with a concussion."

"What's a little more brain damage?" he asked with a shrug.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "You feeling better?"

Bellamy sighed, his shoulders falling a little. "Yes," he said with more genuine feeling than he'd meant to let slip. But the resulting softening of her expression made him realize his admission had been worth it.

"Come on," she said, jerking her head toward their bed. "I don't know about you but I'm tired."

He did as she asked without protesting.

He'd kind of assumed she would reconstruct her walls now, like she usually did. But when he slid his arm under her pillow again, she relaxed into him as if nothing had changed.

Taking a chance, he rolled toward her, resting his free hand along his own hip so as to not trap her if she didn't like this turn of events. But she didn't even tense, just pulled the sheet up under her chin.

"Thank you," he murmured against her shoulder blade.

"We have to take care of each other," she said softly. She reached behind her and grabbed his hand, pulling it around her. "We are all we have. I'll be damned if they take that away. I need you, whole and sane and ready for whatever comes next."

He didn't deserve this loyalty. He knew it. But try as he might to rebel against it, the promise of having Clarke in his life, for better or worse, was something he couldn't walk away from. Regardless of what their official titles were, what they meant to each other transcended labels. He would never forget this moment.

He squeezed her hand once and fell asleep with his forehead pressed against her shoulder blade.

_Living my life trying to do what's right in the hope of a better day. And all I want is that you extend your hand to me. I want show me where it hurts. We'll make it okay._

_Active Child feat. Ellie Goulding "Silhouette"_


	7. Chapter 7

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Seven

"Mistake"

* * *

><p>"So we really have to talk about this," Clarke said from the bathroom doorway.<p>

"I know."

"What are your thoughts?"

"That you might have finally met your match as far as stubbornness goes."

Clarke rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "That's_ not_ what I'm referring to," she said. "I mean, I'm really freaking hungry too, don't get me wrong. But I'm talking about the lack of a message on the mirror. It's kind of got me worried."

Bellamy was sitting on their couch, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his stomach. She knew he was trying to be tough about this hunger situation but it had to be getting to him. She could tell in the way he held himself, the tightness in his jaw, his increased fatigue. She was feeling it too.

"Maybe they're busy," he said with a shrug.

She scoffed. "Doing what?"

He just raised an eyebrow suggestively and she was sorry she'd asked.

"Well, I have a solution to both problems," she said. "But you aren't gonna like it."

Bellamy held her gaze for a moment as her thoughts seemed to register in his brain. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. No."

Clarke crossed the space between them and sat on the edge of the couch. "Listen. When the breakfast drawer opens, I'll just take the stupid test. It's not going to be positive anyway. We've been careful. But then we'll get lunch and maybe a spoon."

He was quiet for a long time and Clarke waited as long as she could, letting him come to terms with what she was suggesting.

"Look," she said when it was obvious to her that he wasn't going to say anything. "You're right. They're more stubborn than I am, okay? I didn't foresee them holding out this long. But this could also get us our spoon, too. This will kill two birds with one stone."

He raised an eyebrow at her expression and she sighed. "Again, one of my dad's many weird one-liners. Sorry."

Bellamy shook his head. "Don't apologize for that," he said. "Your dad must have read up a lot on those turns-of-phrases. I don't mind them. But, you know, be prepared to _explain_ them."

She smirked. "It means one action could have two positive results. One stone. Two birds."

She knew she was going to take the test whether he agreed or not. He wasn't her keeper. But she really wanted him on board with this because it had been a while since they were at odds on a decision and she didn't like it. Not liking it wouldn't change her stance but it would definitely make the whole thing more frustrating if he fought her at every step on this.

"Okay, look," he started, scooting forward until his feet hit the floor. He propped his elbows up on his knees as he talked. "You have every logical reason to take the damn thing. I get it. We get fed. We possibly get our ticket out of here. Trust me. It's logical and I'm running it through my head and I can't find fault with it."

"But you still don't want me to do it."

"No. I really don't."

Clarke took a deep breath, knowing she would have to be the one to say what had been left unsaid. "Because if for some reason it came back positive, it would change everything."

He sighed. "We'd be crazy to think it wouldn't."

She closed her eyes, trying to think of a way to phrase what she was thinking. "Look. If somehow the test came back positive, that would mean things are _already_ different. The idea that not knowing it somehow makes it not real is avoidance. And avoiding it won't make it go away. It won't feed us and it sure as hell won't get us out of here."

Bellamy groaned and she realized that she said the right thing. If she hadn't, he'd have an argument. But he couldn't argue this one. She knew it. He had a specific "I hate this whole word" groan that he saved for times when he had no arguments. Usually it felt like a victory when she heard that sound. It used to mean that she'd won. But this time, and she wasn't really sure why, it didn't feel like winning.

Before he could say anything else, the breakfast drawer opened, along with the one with their fresh clothes and towels. He looked at her, turned those very defeated brown eyes to hers and sighed. He got up and retrieved the cup for her, dropping it in her hands with a shake of his head.

"If it's any consolation," she said as she stood up. "I have absolutely no desire to do this."

"I know you don't, Princess," he said softly. "But you're right. It has to be done."

Clarke went into the bathroom and filled the sample. She closed the lid and sat the cup on the counter and stared at it. For all her bravado in trying to persuade Bellamy that this was the right decision, she was terrified looking at that cup. He'd been right. The results of the test could very well change their lives forever. Not knowing right now was a blessing and she'd much rather go on not knowing. But it was cowardly. Standing here with shaking hands and heart racing, she was being a coward. She knew it and yet she could do nothing about it.

She was startled as a hand entered her eye line, grabbing the cup for her. She hadn't even heard him come in, which spoke a lot to how bothered she was by this whole thing.

He turned and left with the cup and, from her place leaning against the sink in the bathroom, she heard him close the drawer. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists and tried not to feel like her world could fall apart at any second.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked from the doorway.

Clarke swallowed hard. "I honestly have no idea."

He didn't say anything for a while and Clarke continued to breathe with her eyes closed, focusing on not falling over. The lack of sustenance was really messing with her because it hadn't taken more than half a dozen deep breaths to make her feel light-headed and dizzy.

And on top of that, she was starting to feel the white-hot tendrils of rage burning through her veins. It wasn't as if this situation hadn't already been making her angry. But giving in to that anger would solve nothing. It wouldn't help them develop a plan to get out of here and it wouldn't fight the gas. It would have only made them more miserable than necessary, to give into that rage.

She'd resisted the urge to be angry for long enough. This was the last straw and she was finally pissed. They'd locked her up and had decided that, against her will, she'd be their living incubator. And because she had no way of fighting them on this until she gave in to what they wanted, she was being forced to fall in line.

She turned away from the sink and stormed past Bellamy and back into their room. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to be alone with her pain and frustration. She growled and started pacing, pacing because if she didn't keep moving she would start hitting things and she knew that would be a bad idea. She'd told Bellamy as much a few different times. Only now did she realize how tempting it would be to start pounding away at some inanimate object. Only now did she understand that desire.

"You're gonna wear a hole in the floor pacing like that," Bellamy said from the bathroom doorway.

She laughed, a sound totally devoid of humor. "Unless you're going to volunteer to be a punching bag, this is all I've got right now."

Clarke caught a glance of his confused expression and for some reason that made no sense to her at all, that look on his face made her even angrier.

"Don't you look at me like that," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm crazy. Like I'm nuts for being pissed right now."

"Well it was _your_ idea to take the test."

She threw her hands in the air and came to a stop in front of him. "And that means I can't be mad about it? Just because I took the damn thing doesn't mean I can't still be pissed that they forced me back into a corner, okay?"

Bellamy just held his hands up in front of him as if he didn't want a fight. She stopped for a moment, breathing heavy, and finally took in his expression.

He was nervous. Those test results were making him really nervous. She could tell from his posture, from his choice of words, from the creases in his forehead. He was scared. And if she had taken a moment to appreciate the fact that these Mountain people were messing with _both_ of them and not just her, she'd have noticed that immediately.

She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking he hands out by her sides. When she looked at him again, he had one eyebrow raised, as if he were about to start with some sort of snarky comment.

She would never know what it was though because before either of them could speak, the monitor on the wall next to the door sprang to life. Rather than showing the man it had shown before, this time it was a woman in a lab coat addressing them.

"Congratulations room 309," she said with a broad smile on her face. "You have finally been tested! Now that you have I can divulge some additional information about your condition that wasn't available to you before."

Clarke felt all the blood drain from her face. "Condition?" she echoed softly. She hardly felt Bellamy move up beside her and place a hand on the small of her back.

"When you were brought in, all of you had birth control discs embedded into your lower backs. We removed those of course and replaced them with fertility amplifiers. In this way were able to ensure that even pre-seminal fluid would be enough to establish a pregnancy, which usually is an unlikely scenario."

"Oh no," Bellamy said from behind her, his fingers tightening on the fabric of her shirt. Clarke felt her knees wobbling precariously.

"Now," the woman continued. "This being said, you will find something very unique occurring here. We have been working tirelessly for several generations now on an accelerated gestation serum that would allow a patient to carry a child to term in about ten weeks, rather than forty. This has been our first large-scale trial and has been incredibly successful thus far. Because of this serum, we should be able to establish enough children within this generation to sustain our population indefinitely. And in only a few years time rather than it taking a decade."

Clarke could feel Bellamy's hand shaking against her. Or perhaps she was trembling uncontrollably. She wasn't sure which it was.

"So this is what happens next," the woman said. "You are to be reunited with the rest of your people. They have been established in a much larger area of barracks with an attached mess hall and recreational facility. You are the last of the subjects to be moved. Momentarily, you will be relocated. Further testing will begin in a few days to monitor your new pregnancy."

With those words spoken, the monitor went black and then faded to white.

Clarke turned and met Bellamy's eyes, unsurprised to see the same shock she felt mirrored there.

Then the gas started. They both recognized it immediately as different from the aphrodisiac. It was the red gas that had knocked out Clarke and the others before. They scrambled back toward the far wall but it was useless.

The last thing Clarke remembered was her head hitting the floor and staring across the space to where Bellamy lay, already gone, as the black boots of soldiers came in to take them away.

* * *

><p>The first thing Clarke became aware of was the chattering of voices around her. She couldn't seem to make her eyes open or move her body. She felt as if she was full of sand and stone.<p>

"Did she just move?"

"Guys! She's waking up!"

"Give her some spaces. Jesus, Jasper. Would you move?"

"I was checking her pulse. Chill out, okay?"

Clarke groaned and flexed her fingers. Someone was holding onto her right hand with a death grip. She ran her thumb across the knuckles and immediately realized that this hand didn't belong to who she had hoped it belonged to.

She licked her lips and willed her voice to work. "Could someone bring me some water?" she croaked.

"Dude, Clarke needs water!"

"Somebody get some water."

"Monty's on it, Clarke. Can you open your eyes?"

Clarke squeezed them closed a little tighter for a second before finally prying them open.

The first face she saw, the person attached to the hand she was holding, was Finn.

"Clarke," he said with a sigh of relief. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

She just frowned and shook her head, her eyes taking in the people immediately around her. She caught glimpses of Jasper, Monroe, Miller, Raven, a couple of girls she knew as Toni and Penelope, and Monty as he came back with a cup of water for her.

Finn tried to hold it up to her mouth but instead she shook free of his hand and pushed herself up to sitting. "Where's Bellamy?"

Clarke watched as Finn's face fell a little. "He's in the next bunk. He's still out."

Only having his word to go on wasn't good enough. She put a hand on Finn's shoulder and used him to swing her legs over the side of the bed she was laying on. Everyone around her was protesting, telling her to sit and take it easy, but she couldn't. She wouldn't listen. She needed to see. She needed to see that Bellamy was fine.

When Finn realized that she wouldn't be dissuaded, he tucked an arm around her and led her over to a nearby bed.

In sleep, he looked far too still. Even though they'd had several nights together in this place, she'd never actually seen him asleep. He always seemed to wait for her to fall asleep first and was awake already when he woke up, with the exception of that first morning when she'd dumped him on the floor by accident.

He didn't look like he was sleeping. He looked lifeless. Clarke couldn't help how her hand went to his neck, checking his pulse to reassure herself that he was okay. And of course he was. His heartbeat was a little slow and his breathing was heavy but both were normal reactions to being drugged into unconsciousness. Finn let her go and she sank to the floor, her back against the side of the bed. She propped her face up in her hands, closing her eyes and tuning out the questioning voices around her.

She just needed a minute. She was starting to understand why the others had begged her to sit back down because just that short trip from one bed to the next had already exhausted her.

Finn shooed everyone else back to wherever they'd come from and took a seat next to her. From the corner of her eye, she could see that he was still holding her cup of water. Her throat felt raw and dry and when he noticed that she was looking at it, he handed it over. She took a deep swallow of the metallic water before placing the cup on the floor on the other side of her.

"How is everyone handling this?" she asked, clearing her throat and setting herself to the business at hand. It was useless to sit and worry about Bellamy when there were things to be done.

Finn ignored the question. "How are _you_ handling this?"

"I'm handling it by looking for a way out of here."

"Why?"

Clarke turned to him, a look of pure confusion on her face. "Why? _Really_?"

Finn shrugged. "Look, it's far from ideal, I'll give you that. But there's food here. Shelter. Safety."

She shook her head. "We are _not_ safe."

"There's no Grounders here," he replied. "No storms or mutated beasts or Reapers."

"That does_ not_ make it safe," she said. "You're nuts if you think they're just going to let any of us go. They can make us produce radiation-resistance children at a fraction of the usual rate of human gestation. You have to be an idiot if you think they're going to let any one of us walk out of here."

"But they said—"

"Finn," she said, clenching her hands into fists. "I don't trust what they said. Not a word of it. It was a bunch of placating fabrication. I'm going to get us out of here before they decide we aren't even worthy of being awake during our human incubation periods."

Behind her, Clarke heard the rustle of sheets and she turned, pushing herself up on her knees.

Bellamy groaned and frowned and Clarke fought the urge to grab his hand. But Finn was there and she was being watched. She could feel the eyes of the others in the room as she resolutely ignored them.

"Hey," she said instead. "You with us yet?"

He groaned again and lifted his head a little, peeking through narrow eyes. The moment he saw her face there, he sighed and let his head fall back on the pillow. "I feel like crap."

"You look like crap."

"Your bedside manner sucks."

She smirked. "Remind me to work on that when we get out of here."

"I'll hold you to that," he said.

He closed his eyes and it seemed like he drifted back to sleep. Clarke wondered if he would even remember waking up. She sighed and turned back around, sitting as she had been before. She could feel Finn staring at her but she refused to answer the question in his eyes. They all knew the answer anyway. Talking about it would be useless.

Finn seemed to understand this eventually because his shoulders dropped and he let his head fall back on the bed behind him.

"We're really in a mess now, aren't we?" he asked softly. He moved to reach for her hand, sitting on the floor between them, but she moved it to her lap before he could.

"Yeah," she replied. "And to think we _thought _we had it bad before."

"_I could scream forever. We are the poisoned youth."_

_Fall Out Boy "Centuries"_


	8. Chapter 8

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Eight

"Keeping Up"

* * *

><p>Bellamy remembered waking up the first time but it had seemed like some kind of dream. He knew he'd seen Clarke there, seemingly safe and sound as she was able to pick at him. He thought he'd managed a clever comeback but he wasn't sure. He hoped he hadn't actually heard Finn's voice next to him as he'd fallen asleep, but he couldn't remember if he had or if he'd only dreamed that.<p>

Waking up the second time was altogether different. His body didn't seem so sluggish and his eyes were actually cooperating. He opened them and turned his head, trying to take in the space around him.

But apparently he had a guard. Or a nurse, he wasn't sure.

"Hey," Jasper said from a chair that was pulled up at the end of the bed. He'd had his feet propped up on the bed and his chair came down on all four legs with a thud. "You're awake."

He nodded and tried to swallow but his throat felt raw. "Where's Clarke?" he asked in a scratchy whisper.

Jasper jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "She's asleep. We finally got her back to bed after she fell asleep sitting up."

Bellamy's brow furrowed as he sat up. Jasper handed him a cup of water, which he took and gladly drained.

"How long have we been out?" he asked, handing the cup back.

"Well, we don't have a clock but from my best guess I'd say almost twenty-four hours. You missed a day's worth of meals anyway."

At the mention of food, Bellamy felt how hungry he was. He and Clarke had been without food for more than four days now and he wondered how much of their extended convalescence was precisely because of this.

Bellamy swung his legs off the bed and stood on shaky legs, his eyes finally taking in the room.

It was large with a high ceiling, holding beds for probably twice their current number. Some were stacked on top of one another as bunks, others had been pushed together to make larger beds, and still others were strewn about as singles. In the farthest back corner, he could see a stack of unused mattresses and bedframes pushed against the wall as to be out of the way. The room was dim and once again he found himself wishing they had a way of knowing what time of day it was.

Off to his right was a large set of open doors, spilling a yellow glow into the room. There was a hallway beyond that and he found himself needing to know what was out there.

But first things first. Two beds down and one row over, he'd caught a glimpse of the blonde hair he'd been searching for.

Jasper trailed behind him but didn't try to stop him as he went to check on Clarke.

She looked peaceful, far more so than she ever was when she was awake. But she seemed so still that it made him nervous and he reached down to check her pulse, just to be sure. It was normal, as far as he could tell, so he let her be. They'd have time to discuss escape plans later. He'd let her get her rest while he scoped out their new living situation.

"Alright," he said, taking a step back from Clarke. He resisted the urge to tuck her hair out of her face and instead turned his attention to Jasper. "Give me the tour."

Jasper led him out of the sleep quarters and Bellamy quickly discovered that what he'd thought was a hallway was really just a stopping point between a doorway on the left and one on the right. To the left was a large communal bathroom with curtained showers and toilet stalls. Through the doorway to the right was a big room with long tables, a mixed assortment of unmatched chairs tucked around them. There was an alcove full of bookshelves and another with what looked like board games. The dull metal walls were covered with fabric, tapestries if he remembered correctly.

This is where most of the people were, sitting at tables with books or games before them, chattering good naturedly with one another and creating enough of a din that Bellamy could stand at the back of the room and just observe them for a moment.

How's Clarke?" Jasper asked, bringing Bellamy's attention back around. "I mean, before. While you guys were in the room, I guess. I got your message but they yanked us out of there before I ever found out if you guys were okay."

Bellamy shrugged. "Well I know she's pissed."

"I figured she would be."

"How are you not dead, by the way?"

Jasper laughed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "By all means, I should be. I thought I was going to be. Anya…is a crazy person. Let me just tell you that."

"Well that fact that she _didn't_ kill you gives her a few extra points in my book."

At the sound of Clarke's voice, both of them turned. Jasper's face broke into a huge grin as he threw his arms around her. She laughed a little at his enthusiasm, patting him on the back a bit awkwardly. Bellamy crossed his arms and watched the reunion, feeling a little of the weight on his heart lift to see that she could still smile after all. It wasn't entirely genuine but it was as close as it was going to get, he figured.

"Hey," she said, turning her eyes to his once Jasper had released her. "Feeling better?"

He smirked. "Can't keep me down for long."

She rolled her eyes but he could see that there was a little humor in them.

There reunion was interrupted by the sound of a bell dinging and they turned to see two large metal windows set into the left wall roll open, revealing a buffet of food. There seemed to be a mass exodus from the tables as kids formed a line at the buffet, taking big plastic trays and waiting their turns.

Several closer to the end recognized their leaders and a cheer rippled through those in attendance. To Bellamy it seemed as if the collective morale had gone up a tick or two just seeing him and Clarke up and moving around. He nodded to people, clasped them on the shoulder as they came by, and generally tried to keep a brave face despite knowing that they were all in a dire situation. Appearances were everything though, he knew this. So he tried to keep a positive face even though his insides were in knots.

He was so lost in this thought that he jumped when Clarke grabbed his elbow. She looked a little amused at having caught him off guard but she didn't comment on it as they moved a little closer to their first meal in days.

"Look, I just saw Raven over by the bookcases," she said. "She was _walking_. I have no idea _how_ but she was. I'm going to go eat with her. But you should kind of make the rounds, get an idea of how people are handling this."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow and took a couple steps forward as the line moved. "Look Princess," he said. "I don't know when I gave you the impression that I was a grief counselor."

He looked over his shoulder to see her narrowing her eyes at him. He'd forgotten how much he appreciated that expression.

"You gave me the _impression_ that you wanted to lead these people," she answered. "And right now I get the feeling that not everyone wants to leave as badly as we do. So we need to know who wants to stay and why and how we can get them to change their minds."

It was the first he'd heard of the idea that people might not want to leave. But when he thought about it for a moment, he kind of understood it. If they left, it was to run toward the wilderness. It was to run toward Grounders and increasingly cold weather and the uncertainty of when their next meal would be. And for the girls, it would be running away from medical care. With impending births to consider, he could understand why some of them would choose against leaving the Mountain.

And while he could see the logical reasons for wanting to stay, he still couldn't find it in himself to want it for himself. Or for Clarke.

Clarke.

He hadn't had an opportunity to think about the repercussions of what they'd learned. He was dreading the moment when he actually did.

But Clarke was currently looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to confirm that he would indeed test out people's reactions to their situation. He knew that he would do it but he didn't want her to think he was going soft on her. And there were appearances to keep up, after all.

"You expect me to just ask people? About their feelings?" he asked, stepping up to the window full of the most delicious food he'd ever seen in his life. Granted, at this point he'd have happily eaten his own boots and been thankful for it. But it really seemed like a feast before them and he started helping his plate, adding far more than he could probably eat.

"I don't care _how _you do it," she responded, filling her plate in the same manner that he was. "Bump chests or sniff butts or do secrets handshakes. However the hell you_ guys_ convey emotions. Just get that information."

He turned to her and was about to speak when she cut him off.

"And don't you dare tell me that I'd be better at it. Having breasts does not automatically make a person better at talking about feelings," she said, giving him a pointed look before leaving him and making her way to where Raven was sitting, her nose in a book.

He watched her go with a pang in his chest. If he were to be entirely honest with himself, the reason he didn't want to ask around about how their people were doing was because he'd rather be sitting with her for this meal. Just the distance of the room seemed too much after having spent as much time in close quarters as they had. He wasn't in the business of being honest with himself though so he shook it off and found a table populated almost exclusively by people sitting in pairs.

* * *

><p>Clarke could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away. It wasn't as if she'd wanted to put space between them. She'd have rather stayed by his elbow the rest of the day. She was nervous and actively not thinking about what was happening to her, to them. Somewhere along the line, he'd become her touchstone when she was nervous. He kept her tethered. She felt that tether pull taut as she crossed the room, nodding to people along the way.<p>

Raven happened to look up as she approached. The other girl's eyes lit up and she dropped her book down next to her tray. Clarke barely had time to put her own tray down before she was enveloped in another hug, this one a little more surprising than the last one had been.

"Clarke!" she exclaimed, drawing back. "God, we were starting to think you guys didn't make it after all."

Clarke ignored how that comment made her feel. A little proud at their ability to hold out against the Mountain for as long as they had and a little guilty that their friends had been worried.

"Look at you," Clarke said instead. "I honestly thought you'd never walk again, the way that bullet got you."

Raven smirked and turned, holding up the back of her shirt to show two neatly healing incision scars. "Took two titanium pins to put everything back together but I've got a good prognosis. Or so they say." She dropped her shirt and stepped around the table, taking her seat. "It's hell with the metal detector though."

"Metal detector?" Clarke asked, taking a seat across from Raven.

"You can't see it," Raven replied, gesturing vaguely to the doorway. "Imbedded in the doorframe. They don't want us hording silverware I guess. Not that I have any idea what they think we'd use it for. These forks are so dull that they're basically useless and what are we going to do with spoons? Dig a tunnel?"

Clarke smirked, deciding to keep her ideas for spoons to herself for the time being. She hadn't had a chance to check out the bathroom vents yet but she was still hopeful that her previous plan could be implemented here.

"Besides that, how are you?" Clarke asked. She looked down at her plate and decided to start with a fluffy, buttered roll. She pulled apart a piece of the bread and popped in into her mouth, almost moaning with the satisfaction of having any kind of food after being hungry for so long.

"You mean with this whole pregnancy bullshit?" Raven asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm freaking having to pee every fifteen minutes and I can't stand the smell of cooked meat. You?"

Clarke shook her head. "That's not what I meant," she replied, though she couldn't help but be interested at the symptoms. She'd treated pregnant women with her mother plenty of times and hearing about their symptoms had become one of her favorite parts of the job. They varied so much between women that Clarke had never been sure if there was just one set of rules at play. "I mean, well. Are you okay? And who…uh…who…?"

Raven laughed. "Who's the baby-daddy?"

Clarke frowned. "Raven."

"Sperm-donor?"

"Really?"

Raven shook her head in amusement. "A kid named James. Billy James or something like that. You know the one who used to have spikey blond hair but it grew out and now it's all swishy?"

Clarke did know. She remembered pulling a bad splinter out of his hand after he'd waited and let it get infected. "How are you not going crazy right now?"

"I thought about it," she said, the mirth leaving her face a little. "Thought about going crazy. Thought about using one of those bed sheets and tying a noose. Get out of this once and for all. But then I realized I wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot."

"We're going to get out of here," Clarke said firmly. "And I'm going to need you in order to do that so you better be right. You better not be done."

Raven nodded decisively. "I'm not. I promise."

"Good," Clarke replied. She took another bite of bread and felt her stomach protest. What had been amazing with the first bite now seemed to be too much. She knew she would have to be careful after going so long between meals. It would be really easy to overload her stomach and make herself sick. She refused to believe there was any other reason for her nausea.

Raven was spinning a fork between her fingers as she leaned in closer to ask a question. "So. You know. How were…things…with Bellamy?"

Clarke shrugged and forced herself to swallow another bite of bread. "It was fine."

"Ha," Raven said with a raised eyebrow and Clarke could feel her cheeks turning pink against her will. "That good, huh? Boy's got skills, right?"

That comment caught her attention but Raven didn't seem to even look flustered. "Have you slept with Bellamy?"

Raven shrugged one shoulder, still twirling the fork. "Just once. I kind of used him. To get over Finn."

Clarke pursed her lips for a second, a feeling of unreasonable jealousy swirl though her guts. But then she reminded herself that she had no claim on him. And besides, they couldn't hold past behavior against one another. Not that it mattered. She had no claim on him. She had to repeat that in her mind a few times to make it feel true.

"I'm pretty sure we're supposed to dislike each other for sleeping with the same guys," Clarke ventured with an eyebrow raised.

Raven grinned. "Good thing I'm not in the habit of doing what I'm supposed to do, right?"

Clarke mirrored that grin. "You're right about that."

Raven laughed and picked her book back up while Clarke tried to force herself to eat some more. She managed the one roll but it looked like everything else on her plate was going to waste. She frowned, wishing that she could get her body to cooperate with her.

"Hey, so what's the general consensus," she finally asked, pushing her tray to the side. "Are people wanting to leave or are they…you know…okay with this?"

Raven sighed, turning the corner of the page and putting the book back down. "They're scared, Clarke. We're all scared. There are a few who absolutely want to stay. They seem to think that a ten week pregnancy is a small price to pay for food and security. Then there are a bunch who I think are just waiting for the signal, you know? Waiting for you and Bellamy to tell them what to do. Me personally? We gotta get the hell out of here before they string us up as living baby-making machines."

Clarke nodded. "Yeah, Bellamy and I kind of had the same feeling."

Raven pursed her lips. "Finn doesn't want to leave."

"Yeah, I got that impression," Clarke said, crossing her arms. "Any idea what that's about? Bellamy said he killed a guy trying to keep us from being brought in. So why stay?"

"Honestly," Raven replied, her face going dark. "I think it's the girl."

"What girl?"

"I guess he got paired up with a Mountain girl. Now he's going on about staying, raising his kid. As if they'd really let him do that."

Clarke frowned. That was Finn. "He falls too easy, doesn't he?"

Raven's jaw tensed.

Clarke shook her head. "Sorry."

"No. You're right," Raven said with a sigh, her shoulders sagging a little. "He's super idealistic. He's going to see it as his responsibility to stay, take care of the kid. Take care of the girl. I mean, that's his deal. He likes to be the caretaker. He likes to be needed."

Clarke nodded. That was Finn in a nutshell. And no one knew him better than Raven.

"Look," Clarke said. "We're going to figure this out. We're going to get everyone out that we can. But we can't make people leave that don't want to go."

"Which means either we leave Finn here," Raven said. "Or we give him a reason to leave."

Clarke nodded, her eyes sweeping the room, taking in all of their people. Some were laughing and teasing one another. Many were situated in couples and Clarke had no way of knowing which people had been together before the Mountain and which couples were a product of the situation they were in.

She caught a glimpse of Bellamy talking animatedly with Miller and Monroe at one of the tables. As if he'd somehow known she was watching him, he looked up and locked eyes with her. It was only for a second but she saw him quirk his eyebrow before going back to talking. He hadn't waved but he might as well have. They were keeping up appearances. If everyone else thought they were handling this well, maybe they all had a chance.

But when she turned back to Raven, it only took a simple grin on her part for Clarke to realize that appearances weren't going to be as easy to maintain as she'd hoped.

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm feeling trapped inside. But too afraid to cry. I'm living my own lie. And you know it."<em>

_The Material "Appearances"_


	9. Chapter 9

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Nine

"Underneath"

* * *

><p>"So you <em>do<em> want to leave then?" Bellamy confirmed, pushing his tray to the side.

"We go where you go," Miller answered, propping his elbows up on the table.

"Yeah," Monroe added. "If you say it isn't safe, we believe you."

"We have no way of knowing if these Mountain people are telling us the truth," Miller continued. "I mean, they could even be putting drugs in this crazy delicious food."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem to be stopping you from eating it."

Miller popped another piece of fruit in his mouth. "Hey, if you or Clarke say to stop eating the food, I won't eat the food. I won't like it but I'll do it. Simple as that." Monroe nodded her head in agreement.

Bellamy wasn't sure when he'd earned such trust and faith. He didn't really feel worthy of it in any capacity. He couldn't forget their first month on earth, the lives that had been lost in his foolish attempt to save his own. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been more scared, _of everything_, than he had been those first weeks on the ground. Fear had motivated him to make horrible decisions. There would never be a moment in his life that he didn't remember how selfish he'd been. He'd spent every moment since his reprieve trying to make up for that time. And it seemed as if those around him had taken this change to heart.

He was about to ask them if they had any intel on Murphy, lurking along the back wall and attempting not to be seen but he was distracted by Clarke abruptly standing at her table and walking briskly toward the doorway. She looked really pale and had the back of her hand against her mouth as she visibly strained to keep from running.

Miller and Monroe followed his gaze. Miller dropped his eyes to the table, shaking his head. Monroe sighed and crossed her arms over her stomach.

Bellamy pushed himself up from the table but before he could go, Monroe reached across the table and grabbed his arm.

"She's gonna need a wet wash cloth, for her face," she said with a sad smile. "And don't hover. Every time Miller tries to hover I have the worst urge to punch him. I'm thinking Clarke has a good left hook."

His eyes darted back and forth between the pair in front of him, kicking himself for not seeing it before. Miller shrugged and Monroe raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something.

Instead, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction Clarke had rushed toward. "What…I mean, is that…?"

"Morning sickness, man," Miller answered, shaking his head again. "And the damn stuff doesn't just happen in the morning. Go figure."

Bellamy sighed and nodded, turning and making his way toward the bathroom. As he approached, he could hear heaving in one of the toilet stalls and he gave himself a moment to just to breathe. There were very few things that made him queasy. He could gut an animal, pull arrows out of appendages, eat insects they'd found when they didn't have enough food. But vomit? It tried to get him every time.

Following Monroe's instructions, he grabbed a wash cloth from the stack by the sink and ran the water until it was warm. He rung out as much of the water as he could, trying to make sure Clarke was done before he approached. It sounded like it, even if she was still sitting on the floor in there.

"Clarke?" he asked rounding the side of the stall and standing back, waiting for her to say something.

She hadn't even pulled the curtain closed. He imagined that if the look on her face in the mess hall had been any indication, there just hadn't been time. She was sitting on her knees with her back to him, her shoulders shaking. He didn't know if she was crying or if it was the physical exhaustion that usually came with getting sick. But he took couple of steps forward and touched her shoulder. She didn't jump, just sat there.

"Monroe said you might want this," he said, holding the cloth out where she could see it.

Clarke sighed heavily and took it, rubbing her face briskly. "So Monroe saw then?"

Bellamy shrugged but when he remembered that she couldn't see him, he said, "She knows what you're going through."

Finally she turned and looked at him. Her face had color in it again which was good. But her eyes were full of tears. He'd been sick a few times before. He knew that vomiting could make your eyes water. But somehow he knew that wasn't the case here.

He put his hand out to help her up and she took it, only holding on to it long enough to stand. She walked on shaky legs to the sink and ran the water, taking handfuls of it to rinse out her mouth. Grabbing a clean cloth, she wiped at her face again. He stood back, waiting. He had no idea what he was waiting for, only that he felt like was waiting for something.

And there it was. When she met his eyes in the mirror, eyes brimming with tears again, he knew what he'd been waiting for. It took him two long strides to cover the space between them. He gently turned her around and wrapped his arms around her.

Clarke pressed her face to the crook of his neck and held on to him as if she were afraid she'd float away. She was shaking but he didn't feel any tears.

"Bellamy," she whispered against his skin. "I'm scared."

Those three words. He felt them to the depth of his soul. Those words tore into him like none other before them, bringing tears to his own eyes. He looked up to the ceiling, blinking them back and taking a deep breath before pressing his cheek to the top of her hair.

"I am too, Princess," he said softly.

"How are we going to do this?" she asked. "How do we get everyone out of here? How do…how do we take care of a whole camp full of pregnant girls? And then babies? Out there? I just…I'm scared. Scared of this. I just can't. I just can't…"

Clarke trailed off, taking a few really long, steadying breaths. He could feel her nose against the skin of his neck, her lips pressed just above the edge of his shirt. She squeezed him tightly one more time and then seemed to have stitched herself back together. She blinked toward the ceiling, swallowing back tears and clearing her throat, shaking her hands out by her sides. He watched her building back up her supports and he wished she didn't have to endlessly be doing that. He wished there was some way he could take some of that weight for her. What he wouldn't do for one of Clarke's shooting stars right now. But he didn't know how to help. Or how to ask her if she would even let him help.

"Okay," she said, the steel back in her voice. Here was Clarke, the warrior Princess. "If we can't get out of here, we won't have those things to worry about anyway. So first things first. Follow me out of the camera angle," she instructed, walking toward the shower section.

"You're already figuring out the cameras?" he asked.

She turned and crossed her arms. "Tell me that's not judgment."

He shook his head and smirked. "Nope. Pride."

"I don't plan on being here long," she said, a little smile playing on her lips at his comment. "I've only identified one so far and it's in the hallway. It's in a dome so the camera can rotate between the mess hall, the dorm, and the bathroom entrance. From there it can see the sinks and the first half of the toilet stalls but not back here. If there are others, in the mess hall and the dorms, I haven't found them yet. Raven's on the lookout though. If anyone can find them, she can."

Bellamy nodded.

Clarke turned and pointed to a vent on the back wall, near the top. "The ceilings in here are probably ten feet so this won't be easy. We shouldn't bring a chair in here though because that might raise suspicion. Can you…"

"Hoist you up there?" he asked.

"Yeah," she finished.

"How much do you weigh?"

She just raised an eyebrow.

Bellamy shook his head, laughing. "I'm kidding. God, I grew up with my mother and my sister. I know that's not something to ask a girl. Trust me."

She tried not to smile. Tried. But she failed and rolled her eyes, motioning for him to join her under the vent. "Okay, how should we do this?"

He squatted down and laced his fingers. "Step on my hands and I'll stand up. That should get you close enough."

She nodded and did as he instructed, holding on to the wall for support as he stood.

Bellamy could feel his arms shaking. Having been in a coma and then nutrition-deprived, he wasn't as strong as he had been. It wasn't that Clarke was that heavy. Sure, she was a little curvier than some of the other girls in there group and normally that was a complete non-issue for him. Right now, he kind of wished he was hoisting Raven instead, since his arms and shoulders still felt weak, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that ever bringing up Raven would be a really bad idea.

"We're in luck," Clarke said. "Flathead screws. And even better. This is an exhaust vent. There's a big fan inside to suck out the steamy air from the showers."

"Are you done?" Bellamy said, trying to keep the strain out of his voice.

"Oh," she answered. "Yeah, you can put me down."

He lowered her down and resisted the urge to just sit on the floor now. He really needed to get back in shape before they left. He'd have to start working with all the guys, anyone who wanted to strengthen their coma-weakened limbs.

"How is a big ass fan in the way gonna be a good thing?" he asked, leaning back against the wall.

"It's good because that vent shaft will lead outside," she answered with a gleam in her eyes. "And I'd have to consult with Raven, but there's got to be a way to get the fan out of the way."

"Without them knowing?"

She shrugged. "Like I said. Have to ask Raven."

He nodded. That was all he'd meant to do but there must have been something about his expression that gave him away.

Clarke sighed and turned away from him for a second, her hands on her hips. He knew that stance. Nothing good tended to come from that stance.

"Look," she said and then she turned back around. "I know about the tryst with Raven, okay? But she and I are fine. We have no issues. And me and you?" she said, gesturing between them. "We have no claims on each other, right? I mean, what's in the past is in the past and whatever's in the future is something to deal with as it comes up. Right?"

Bellamy wasn't sure he felt that way, about the claims at least. He felt he absolutely had a claim on her and if anyone else tried to question that, broken knuckles would be the least of anyone's concern. He didn't want to think of anyone else being close to her. Not touching, not talking, nothing. Not anything. He'd never thought he would ever long for their quiet white room with their blood painting the wall in a mural and their makeshift floor-bed and their _privacy_, but he did. He'd always had to share her before so he had no idea where this sudden possessiveness was coming from. But one thing he was sure of was the fact that they _did_ have claims on each other, whether they were ready to tackle the topic or not.

But she was standing there and waiting for an answer, that hopeful look on her face, expecting him to say that she was right. And he knew that now was not the time for tackling.

"Right," he answered, his voice a little thicker than he'd meant it to be. "You're right. We have more immediate problems to deal with right now."

She nodded in return and he was sure there was a sadness to her expression that he couldn't understand but she didn't give him time to interpret it.

"So, the first thing we need to do is get a spoon through the metal detector."

Bellamy's brow furrowed. "How the hell are you going to manage that?"

Clarke's eyes sparkled and she grinned and that expression was just the breath of fresh air he'd needed since they'd woken up in this damned place.

"I have a plan," she said with that wicked grin and he was helpless to follow as she led the way back to the mess hall.

* * *

><p>One of the things Clarke hated the most about the cameras in this place was not actually the loss of privacy. It was the paranoia. She found herself very aware of every movement, every gesture. She didn't want to give the Mountain people any indication that they were plotting to get free. She found herself afraid of talking to the same people too often, or drawing the same groups at the tables, or even being seen spending too much time with Bellamy, though the last one could have been easily explained away given the circumstances.<p>

Coming back into the mess hall, Clarke found that her plans to sneak a spoon would have to wait until the evening meal. Plates, trays, and silverware had all been cleaned up and it seemed as if half of their group had left the room, taking the opportunity to get naps or showers. Raven was still in the room, her feet propped up on the table before her and the book she was reading before firmly in hand.

"Can you do something for me?" she asked over her shoulder.

Bellamy just raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Can you go tell Raven about my idea? Spoon, exhaust vent, fan?"

"Why don't you want to do it?" he asked, crossing his arms.

In truth, she hated the idea of sending him over to talk to Raven. But if she was going to start trying to keep him away from girls he'd slept with, she'd be pulling him away from half the girls in here on a regular basis. She swallowed down that feeling, deciding avoidance would be the better course of action as far as jealousy was concerned.

"I do," she answered. "But I don't want to be caught on camera talking to her too much. I don't want to give them any reason to suspect that something's off."

Bellamy sighed but seemed to understand what she was saying. "Fine. But do something for me in return?"

"Sure."

"Ask around about Murphy. I saw him dodging us earlier. I want to know how he got here and what he's been like since he's been here," he said. With a frown, he added, "I don't want to find out he's still murderous by getting a pillowcase over my face in the middle of the night."

Clarke felt her stomach jolt. That was an image she certainly didn't want in her mind. "Yeah," she answered. "The spoon is out until dinner anyway. I'll do that. You talk to Raven."

She watched him head in Raven's direction for only a moment before turning to the task at hand.

There were only about half a dozen people still in the mess hall but it didn't take her long to get the information she was looking for. She'd decided she would start with who Murphy had been paired with. From the sound of it, everyone knew who everyone else had been paired with. It wasn't a secret. So when the third person confirmed that Murphy had been paired with Harper, she went to seek the girl out.

Harper wasn't in the mess hall. She had to be in the dorms. Clarke managed to catch Bellamy's eye for a second and she tilted her head toward the doorway. He seemed to understand because his face darkened and he nodded once before continuing whatever he was saying to Raven.

Clarke made her way through the maze of beds in the dorm, passing a few bunks that had sheets hanging over the lower portion to afford a little privacy. She finally located Harper in a bed toward the back, propped up in the dim light with what looked like a deck of cards, playing solitaire on the neatly made sheets.

"Harper," Clarke said as she approached.

The girl looked up and smiled at her, "Hey Clarke. How ya feeling?"

Clarke shrugged. "I haven't made up my mind yet," she answered.

Harper nodded. "I feel ya on that one."

"Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" Clarke asked, taking a seat on the floor next to the bed so as not to disrupt the cards.

"You gonna ask me if Murphy hurt me?" she asked. "Because I think everybody's asked me that once or twice already."

Clarke could feel a knot in her throat and was instantly glad she was having this conversation rather than Bellamy. "And did he?"

Harper sighed and shook her head, gathering up the cards. She gestured for Clarke to come up and sit on the bed with her and Clarke took her up on that. The concrete floor wasn't particularly comfortable.

"After the monitor finished playing, Murphy just kind of sat in the corner with his face in his hands," Harper said. "And when the gas started, well. He just started pacing and grumbling to himself. I'm a little ashamed to admit that the gas did a number on me. I just watched him walkin' back and forth and I stopped seeing _Murphy_ and just started seeing this guy with really deep eyes and clean fingernails and nice neck muscles. It was…weird."

Clarke could understand exactly what she'd gone through on that point.

"And then, I shit you not, Clarke. And then he turned to me and said, 'I have _never_ put my hands on a girl that didn't want it.' Just like that, he said. With tears in his eyes and everything. He said, 'I've done some bad shit in my life but I have never touched a girl when she didn't want it. I swear.' It killed me Clarke because I know what kind of person he is and I still believed him."

Clarke was about to interject but Harper kept talking.

"I mean, I remember when he was a kid. He lived with his mom just two units down from me and my mom. His dad had already been floated and his mom was always drunk. He came by and asked my mom for some extra rations one night but we didn't have any. My mom was always swiping mine for 'shine, too. I didn't keep track of him too much after that, to be honest. I went to working for Nygel, nicking stuff to trade for rations. That's how I ended up here."

She took a breath and leaned back against the wall. "I felt sorry for him. The gas was hurting me so bad and he looked so sad and attractive and I just broke, told him I _did_ want it just to make that damn burning sensation go away. I mean, it was quick or whatever, but he didn't hurt me. And he didn't touch me again after that. I pissed in the cup the next morning and we were in here by lunch. I don't think he's said two words to me since."

Clarke took a moment to process the information. "Do you trust him?"

"Hell no."

"Do you think he's a danger to the rest of us?"

Harper had to think about that one. "I don't think he's gonna hurt any girls. I got the impression he doesn't like to hurt girls."

Clarke would have to disagree on that point, remembering clearly what it had felt like to have Murphy's arm around her body and his knife to her neck. She remembered that he'd shot Raven, who was most certainly a girl. And she shuddered to think of what he might have done to Charlotte, had he caught her. But Harper seemed firm in her declaration and Clarke didn't try to change her mind.

"Look," Clarke started. "If we find a way to get out of here, do you want out?"

"And have a baby in the woods?"

Clarke sighed. "Yeah."

"No medicine? Probably no food. And possibly with Grounders on us?"

"You're making it out to be a really bad idea."

Harper laughed. "Look, if you and Bellamy think we'd be better off out there than in here, you gotta know something I don't. And honestly, that's usually the case. So if you have a way out and say we need to go, I'll go."

"Really?" Clarke asked, her eyebrows raised. "Just like that?"

Harper shrugged. "Since we been on the ground, we've all just had each other, you know? It'd be hard to turn away from that, even in the face of danger."

Clarke nodded. She certainly understood that sentiment. She was going to expand on that idea when her train of thought was stopped by the sight of Bellamy wandering through the beds, either looking for her or looking for Murphy. She wasn't sure which. She bid Harper a hasty farewell, deciding that she should tell Bellamy what she'd learned before he decided to do anything that couldn't be undone.

When he saw her walking toward her, he smiled a little and Clarke felt her heart stutter.

She grabbed his hand and ignored how her mouth went dry as she led him to one of the empty bunk beds. She pulled down the sheet from the upper bunk and held it back, gesturing for him to get in.

"Well, Princess," he said in a mocking tone. "What will the children think?"

She rolled her eyes as he did as she asked, following behind him.

She'd meant for him to just sit on the bunk. The curtain had only been so that they could talk without fear of the camera watching their every word. But he'd laid down against the pillows with his hands behind his head, leaving her enough space to lay beside him. It looked incredibly inviting.

Clarke hesitated for only a second before joining him. The bed was small, meant for one person, so she scooted close to him. Her side was against his and his arm was in the way. Without a word, he moved it, tucking it under the pillow and her head. She settled down and sighed. She had only been a day without his proximity and hadn't realized how much she'd missed it already.

They quietly swapped their news, Clarke relating what she'd heard from Harper and Bellamy telling her Raven's thoughts on the exhaust fan and how it wasn't likely to be a problem.

After which Clarke yawned loudly, surprising herself at how sleepy she was. She hadn't been that tired before she'd laid down but having gotten still, she couldn't argue with how nice it would be to take a nap while they waited for dinner.

"There's nothing else we can do right now," he said as she yawned a second time. "You should just sleep."

"And what are you going to do?" she asked, feeling her eyelids already drooping.

She could feel him shrug.

"Probably just lay here. Think about the Murphy stuff."

"Ugh," Clarke said, turning away from him to get comfortable on her side. "I don't I want you thinking about Murphy while you're in bed with me."

Bellamy rolled toward her. There was still a few inches between them, as if he was asking her if it was okay to be so close. Clarke answered by leaning back into him and she could feel him relax at the contact.

"What would you rather have me think about?" he asked. The question was simple enough but somehow, with his body molded around hers and his whispering voice so close to her neck, it felt more intimate than he'd probably meant.

"I'd rather you think about something happy," she finally said lamely, having no idea how to answer his question.

He huffed softly, stirring her hair. He didn't say anything else. The quiet whispers of their people in neighboring beds, his steady breathing behind her, the warmth she felt in their little enclosure…it was too much for her and she slipped into sleep more easily than she had done in a long time. It was so easy that she never even noticed grabbing his free hand and pulling his arm around her, tucking his fingers beneath her chin as she drifted off.

* * *

><p>"<em>Still waters runs deep. Why do you always hide from me? How do you keep all your troubles underneath?"<em>

_Jasmine Thompson "Drop Your Guard"_


	10. Chapter 10

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Ten

"Need"

* * *

><p>Bellamy opened his eyes and immediately knew something was different about the room. It was darker than it had been and he realized that the Mountain people must turn the lights almost all the way off during the nighttime hours. That hadn't been the case back in their white room and he wondered if it was an attempt to give them a semblance of privacy while being all packed together.<p>

Trying not to disturb Clarke, he leaned forward a little and untangled his fingers from hers, reaching to pull the sheet back. The rest of the room was in almost total darkness, only a few blue emergency lights were glowing in the walls, making it possible to see a path to the hallway. He couldn't see that doorway with the sheet in the way and he sighed, letting it drop back down.

As he settled back down, he hesitated, his arm hovering for a moment. It was one thing for him to allow her to pull his arm over. It was another thing altogether for him to do it on his own initiative. He wasn't sure what the difference was exactly, only that there certainly was one. He settled on draping his arm against his own side. If she woke up and pulled him against her again, he certainly wouldn't fight it.

He had no idea what their people must be thinking right now, knowing their two leaders were tucked away in a bed together with a privacy sheet. Raven had explained a few things to him in their short conversation, one of which was that if he and Clarke were going to get into any extra-curricular activities, they'd be best off using a bunk with a sheet. Bellamy had blown her off, telling her it wasn't like that. That his and Clarke's relationship was still as professional as it could be.

For two people about to have a baby together, anyway.

He didn't really want to think about the pregnancy but he didn't have a lot else to do. He'd always thought women were supposed to look pregnant right away, for some reason. Maybe that was his childhood mindset still firmly in place, he wasn't sure. But he'd always heard that pregnant women were supposed to have a glow about them, that they seemed happier than other people, that you could absolutely just tell by looking at them.

But as he watched her sleep all he could think was that Clarke just looked like Clarke. Maybe a little more tired than usual but normal, considering the circumstances. He couldn't just look at her and know she was pregnant.

Pregnant.

A horrible knot started to form in his throat as he thought that word. He'd been actively avoiding that word in his mind all day. But now, in the dark and quiet and relative safety of their little enclosure, there was nowhere for his mind to escape. Clarke had told him to think about happy things. What happy things did he have left to think of? He couldn't, for the life of him, find any sort of happy way for their situation to end. If they didn't get out of here, they were likely to live out the rest of their lives as nothing more than baby-producing machines. If they did get out, there were more than a dozen things that could go wrong, most of which would go wrong just to spite him, he was sure. There was no future in his mind where they could all just go off into the forest and live happily-ever-after with the children that they hadn't intended to have in the first place.

Without thinking about it, he nuzzled his face closer to the back of her head, breathing in the scent of her. There was a medical smell there that he was sure they all had, from the soap they'd been supplied with, but underneath that was a Clarke-smell that he didn't have a word for. Only that no matter how much grit and grime, no matter how much sweat or soap, that scent would persist.

"Did you just sniff my hair?"

Bellamy froze. Busted. He cleared his throat and pulled his face back from her head. "I was breathing. And your hair was there. Not sure I was sniffing it though."

Clarke groaned and stretched, forcing Bellamy to make room for her as she rubbed her eyes. "How long was I asleep?" she asked with a yawn.

Bellamy shrugged. "I don't really know. I fell asleep, too. But it was long enough to miss dinner. No one came and got us."

"What?" Clarke exclaimed, more loudly than she probably meant to. She leaned forward and pulled back the sheet, much like he'd done, taking in the darkened room and emergency lights with frustration. She dropped the curtain and flopped back on the pillow. Bellamy winced as she hit a nerve in his elbow and slid his arm out of her way.

"Ugh," she groaned, putting her hands over her face. "I can't believe this. Another delay. Now we have to wait until breakfast."

"One night isn't going to make or break this, Princess," he said, adjusting to give her more room now that she was on her back.

"You don't know that," she replied, dropping her arms down by her sides. "And every minute we spend here pushes us toward that stupid deadline."

"Deadline?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She locked eyes with him in the darkness and frowned and he got it. The pregnancies were the deadline. She wanted to be out of here before the babies were born. Well, probably well before they were born, considering that the girls wouldn't be fit for traveling in much more than a few week.

"Ah, right," he said and she nodded before pushing herself up to sitting and swinging her legs off the side of the bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

She glanced back over her shoulder. "To the bathroom."

"Not by yourself, you aren't," he said, leaning up on his elbows.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Seriously. I can pee all by myself."

"I don't think either of us should be walking around in the dark by ourselves with Murphy and Anya out there. I don't take Harper's word for it that Murphy is safe and I haven't even seen Anya yet. Who knows what her intentions are."

Clarke pursed her lips and waited a moment, weighing his words. Finally, with an exasperated groan, she pushed the sheet up and stood, holding it open while he climbed out behind her.

"For the record," she said in hushed tones, her bare feet padding softly on the cold, concrete floor. "I really don't like this."

"Which part?"

"Currently, the babysitting part," Clarke answered, turning toward the bathroom when they got to the doorway. "But I guess it's just a little thing in the big picture right now."

Bellamy just shook his head as she headed toward the toilet stalls. He perched in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He stared out into the dorm area, listening to hushed conversations that echoed faintly due to the high ceilings. From somewhere off to the left, he could hear the tell-tale sounds of a bed squeaking and didn't even bother to suppress a smirk. Apparently, since they couldn't get any _more_ pregnant, some of the teenagers were still practicing their ability to be normal, horny kids.

He heard Clarke get to the sink and wash her hands. Looking over his shoulder, he watched as she grabbed a small, plastic cup from a stack and filled it from the tap. She tilted her head back, draining it pretty quickly before refilling it and turning back to him. She wordlessly handed him the cup and then crossed her arms, leaning against the wall next to him. He drank the water, his eyes back to roaming the dorms.

"I'm going to corner Jasper tomorrow and figure out where Anya is," Clarke said, nodding her head toward the open room.

"There's not a lot of places for her to hide in here," Bellamy ventured. "And she doesn't really seem like the hiding type anyway."

Clarke frowned, reaching up to rub a spot on her chest by her collarbone. She seemed to wince before crossing her arms again. "Yeah, that's got me a little concerned."

Bellamy felt himself wanting to yawn but he shook it off. He left to put the cup back by the sink and then touched her elbow, motioning for her to follow him back to bed.

He sank down on the side of the bed, holding the curtain back for her, but she paused as if reconsidering.

"What is it?" he asked.

Clarke turned her head a little, as if she were looking for prying eyes. "I'm just remembering what you said before and I'm wondering about what kind of example we're setting."

"What are you talking about?"

She sighed and sat down, letting the sheet fall. She was sitting closely enough that he could feel the length of her thigh pressing against his. Either she didn't notice or it didn't bother her because she didn't move so neither did he.

"You said that we were good leaders before because we were separate from each other. We didn't work too closely together."

"Yeah well that was before," he said, leaning back on his elbows so his face wasn't against the sheet while he talked. "We were fighting a war back then. People needed to know we were considering all angles."

"And now?"

"Now I think they need to see us united," he replied. "I don't mean that we need to be _together_ or anything. We talked about claims and all. But I don't think it's going to hurt things anymore if they think we _are_."

"Are what?" she asked. "You mean if they think we're a couple?"

He shrugged.

"But we aren't."

"What I'm saying is that it doesn't matter. Whether we aren't or are or whether they _think _we are or aren't. That doesn't matter as much as—"

"Making sure we show them a united front. That we're not letting the situation distract us from what's important. Which is getting out."

"Right."

Bellamy shifted so that he was laying in his previous space and Clarke followed suit, laying on her back with her arms crossed over her stomach.

"When did you put all of this together?" she asked. "While I was sleeping?"

He shrugged. "Why does it always surprise you so much that I actually think about things?"

She laughed softly, reaching up to adjust her shirt and rub the same place that seemed to bother her earlier. "Mr. Act Now, Ask Questions Later?"

"I thought I told you to lay off on the nick names," he mumbled. "And what is _wrong _with you right now?"

"Huh?"

Bellamy gestured to where her hand was still rubbing the muscles of her upper chest. "You keep doing that. You okay?"

Clarke seemed to notice what she was doing for the first time and she paused before dropping her hands down by her sides again.

"Symptoms," she said with a sigh, as if she didn't really want to be admitting to it. "I'm sure you already noticed how much bigger my boobs are."

"I hadn't actually."

She raised an eyebrow. "How could you not? They're huge. And they're sore, which I guess is why I keep rubbing my chest."

He wasn't sure what to say to that so he just stayed quiet.

"You really couldn't tell?"

Bellamy sighed and propped himself up on his elbow again so he could see her face better. "Back when we were in the white room, we saw an awful lot of each other," he started. "And there was a purpose for it. Things had to be done and they were done, but with the least removal of clothing as possible. I kind of just took that as a sign."

"A sign of what exactly?"

"That seeing your…breasts…or whatever was intimate, more intimate than the situation called for. So no, I didn't notice. Because I wasn't looking. Because I didn't think you really wanted me to."

She was quiet for a while, searching his eyes for something. He wasn't sure what. He felt a little too raw right now, a bit more open than he'd meant to be. Honesty tended to have that affect. But he knew that part of the reason he and Clarke worked so well as a team was because they could be honest with one another. It was in those times that they weren't honest that they met their biggest obstacles.

"Let me have your hand," she said finally, reaching for him.

He frowned. "Why?"

"Do you trust me?" she asked, her eyes still pinned to his.

He nodded and didn't fight it when she took his hand and slipped it underneath her shirt. She cupped his hand around one of her breasts and he could feel his jaw clench.

"See how there's not a lot of give?" she asked as she pressed his fingers tighter. There was still the fabric of her sports bra between his fingers and her flesh but that didn't keep his throat from going dry. "That's how I can tell they're bigger. And here," she said moving his hand farther up between the tops of her breasts and her collarbone. "Is where I'm sore. Muscle strain, probably, since this is happening a lot faster than it should be."

Bellamy took a breath and pressed his thumb down along the muscle she was complaining about. Clarke sighed and he did it again, smoothing a line across her chest, easing that pain as much as he could. Seeing her relax under his touch gave him an idea. She had helped him once before. He was determined to return the favor.

He pulled his hand out from under her shirt, holding on to the edge of it. Her eyes popped open, a question clearly written there.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, mirroring her words from before.

After just a second of hesitation, she nodded. She leaned up enough for him to pull the shirt over her head before laying back down against the pillow.

Without the shirt in the way, he had more leverage to work with. He went back to those sore muscles, using the calloused pads of his thumbs and the palms of his hands to press against her flesh, alternating between lines and circles, careful not to put too much pressure in the places where he could feel her ribs.

Clarke's eyes rolled back in her head and her shoulders relaxed as he continued to massage her aches away.

When he wasn't being watched, he couldn't help the way his eyes roamed over how her nipples clearly strained against the fabric that contained them, over what he knew would be the soft skin of her belly, still flat despite what he knew was taking place within it. She had a freckle next to the dip of her belly button and he found himself wanting to kiss it, to kiss all over her, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that every inch of her had to be as sweet as her lips.

But he reminded himself that this wasn't about sex. It wasn't about his body's physical reaction to being so close to her this way, despite the need he felt burning through his belly. This wasn't about giving in to his baser urges. He wanted to be better than that. He wanted to exercise the free will that they'd been denied before. He wanted to show her that he could be altruistic too, if he needed to be. If_ she_ needed him to be.

"So that is basically amazing," Clarke mumbled and his eyes went back to hers. They were open now and if she'd know he was looking at her shirtless body, she didn't comment on it. "Would it be asking too much for you to get my back too? If I rolled over?"

He moved his hand back and motioned for her to roll over. She did, tucking her arms under her pillow as she did. Bellamy felt himself frustrated by the low ceiling he had to work with, doing his best to kneel so he would have both his hands.

"Just the upper part?" he asked, running his fingers along her shoulder blades.

She sighed at his touch and he could feel her relaxing under his hands, letting go a little more than she usually would. "Yeah. That's where it's the worst."

Her bra was in the way but it didn't have a clasp. He figured it must just pull over. He did the best he could, working his fingers under the edges of the fabric where it was necessary, pushing and teasing the muscles beneath him. Clarke continued to sigh and make small sounds of approval as he worked away her aches and pains. For him, it was a very small thing to do, helping her like this. She was the one who would really be doing all the work, growing a person. The least he could do was offer her a little peace along the way.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been at it before he noticed the goose bumps along her shoulders. She was starting to get cold and, from the sound of her breathing, was almost asleep again. He stopped and reached for her shirt.

"Feeling better now?" he asked as she lifted her head, turning sleepy eyes in his direction.

"So much better that I'm almost embarrassed to admit it," she mumbled. She took the shirt and slipped it back over her head before rolling to face him. "Seriously, though. Thank you."

Bellamy shrugged and reached down to their feet, pulling up the blanket that they hadn't bothered to use earlier. "You helped me before. Consider this me paying you back."

She smirked and tucked the blanket under her chin. "So that's what the trade-off is?"

His eyes went wide at her insinuation but she just laughed.

"I'm_ teasing_ you," she said, followed by a long yawn. "I'm not actually keeping track."

* * *

><p>"<em>And this is all we need. And this is where we start. This is the day we greet. This is the day, no other."<em>

_Vienna Teng "Level Up"_


	11. Chapter 11

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Eleven

"Listen"

* * *

><p>In the morning, the lights came up very suddenly. This was apparently something that the others had become accustomed to but Clarke found it very jarring and she jerked awake with her heart pounding.<p>

From the passers-by, they learned that breakfast usually followed about half an hour after the lights came up. She and Bellamy decided that he'd go get a shower while they had the time and she would track down Jasper. She was determined to get some information out of him about Anya.

She didn't like watching Bellamy walk away from her, heading toward the showers with a towel and change of clothes in hand. She didn't like him being out of her sight at all and if she was going to be honest with herself about it, the threat of Murphy or Anya wasn't the total reason for that feeling.

He must have known she was watching him because at the doorway he turned his head and smirked at her, over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, doing her best not to show him the smile that he'd caused. Her heart beat a little faster as she turned from him and she held on to that feeling for moment because it felt remarkably good and she had precious little to feel good about these days.

There seemed to be a lot of people heading for the showers, probably more people than what the showers could accommodate but that didn't seem to be slowing them down at all. Pushing against that flow of traffic, she managed to pin down Jasper toward the back of the room, over by the stacks of spare mattresses and bedframes. His eyes widened a little at the sight of her and then he immediately tried to cover up his surprise with his trade-marked grin. But Clarke knew Jasper well enough to know he was nervous, a little more than his usual level of nervous, and she felt her defenses go up.

"Hey Clarke!" Jasper called loudly, putting space between himself and the mattresses behind him as if that didn't make his odd behavior seem more obvious.

She frowned. "Hey, Jasper," she said. She stopped a few feet from him and crossed her arms. "I need to ask you a few things, okay?"

He nodded briskly, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them before deciding that he wanted to keep them crossed. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Clarke would have found his behavior humorous.

"I don't know if word has gone around or not but we're working on a way out of here," she said quietly, her eyes keeping track of anyone in the vicinity.

Jasper sighed, his shoulders sagging with relief. "Oh thank God. Yeah, us too."

Clarke felt her brow furrow. "What do you mean? Who is us?"

"Anya and me," he answered. "And Monty and Penelope. But we haven't had any kind of luck. Anya just wants to rush the guards, next time they come out of the maintenance door to check Raven. You know, when the metal detector goes off? I don't think she's gonna hold off much longer though. She's pretty pissed."

Clarke had to blink a few times while she tried to process everything Jasper had just revealed. "Where _is_ Anya right now?"

Jasper pursed his lips for a moment, almost like he wasn't going to tell her. Or that he didn't want to. But in the end, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the mattresses.

"We built a fort, kind of," he said when she raised an eyebrow at him.

"And you didn't think that would look a little suspicious?" she asked. "To the cameras?"

He threw his hands in the air. "Hey, we didn't have our All-Mighty leaders, alright? We were just doing what we could."

Clarke sighed and moved forward, clasping him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot to consider right now. We need to be mindful that everything we're doing now is being watched."

He nodded. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense."

She gestured toward their mattress fort. "Is she going to come out and talk to me or am I going to have to go in there?"

Jasper seemed to think about this for a moment before grimacing. "I'll see if she'll come out."

He disappeared behind the mattresses and Clarke could hear low voices conversing for a few minutes. She couldn't hear what they were actually saying but she could hear the tones and was a little surprised to hear Jasper holding his own against the grounder princess, as everyone had taken to calling her.

Clarke almost didn't recognize the girl who came around the side of the mattresses. With her war paint gone, her armor shed, and her hair down, she didn't look much older than any of the rest of them. She still had her tattoos but they didn't look as ominous now that the rest of her skin was clean. But she stalked forward with that same haughty stance. Her eyes were still as fierce and defensive as Clarke had remembered. This version of Anya might be cleaned up a little but one look at her revealed that she was no less wild.

"Anya," Clarke said with a nod of her head.

Anya nodded in return. "Clarke."

Jasper popped his head around the stack of mattresses. "Jasper?"

Both girls turned to look at him with similar exasperated expressions.

He nodded. "Yeah, okay. You guys got this. I'll just…go be, you know…somewhere else…" And with that he shooed himself off toward the mess hall.

"I hear you want to get out of here," Clarke started.

The grounder princess didn't answer. She just crossed her arms.

Clarke sighed. "We want out of here, too. We're working on a plan."

"I have a plan."

"Not a very good one."

Anya pursed her lips, refusing to agree or disagree. "I don't trust you."

Clarke nodded. "Yeah, that makes two of us."

They were both quiet for a moment, sizing each other up. Clarke had no idea how to get this woman to trust her. But she knew without a shadow of a doubt that having Anya at her back as an enemy was a bad idea.

"What's your deal with Jasper?" Clarke asked, jumping topics.

Anya's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Clarke shrugged. "You're strong. You're not going to let some drug get the better of you. But here you are, same condition as the rest of us."

Anya raised an eyebrow but didn't answer.

"Did you _want_ to get pregnant?" Clarke asked.

For the first time during their encounter, Anya looked away. "In my clan, when we hunt, we avoid the mother bear as often as we can. Do you know why that is?"

Clarke shook her head.

"It's because there is nothing as fierce on Earth as the mother bear, defending her cubs," she answered. "And so it is the same with my people."

"Now you're the mother bear," Clarke ventured.

Anya nodded. "And the one to be feared."

Clarke didn't know what to say to this. She waited, weighing Anya's words and thinking.

"If you're to be feared," Clarke started. "Why are you hiding in here?"

"Your people don't trust me."

Clarke laughed a little. "Can you blame them? You tried to kill them."

"And they also tried to kill me," Anya countered.

"You know what?" Clarke said, throwing her hands in the air, a gesture that caused Anya to flinch. "So we all have a past. And that doesn't matter anymore. What happened out there? Before? It doesn't matter. It's been wiped away. We are starting over in here. The stakes are different now. If we keep holding the past against one another none of us will be getting out of here."

Anya considered her words for a moment before responding. "You're right," she said. "No one has ever come back from the Mountain before."

Clarke frowned. "You mean they've taken your people before?"

Anya nodded. "But if I was to come back…"

"That would mean something to your people, right?" Clarke ventured. "Would it be enough for peace?"

"Probably not," Anya answered. "Not at first anyway. Peace…is not easy for my people. But if you were to help me get out of here…get back to them…"

"It would at least be a sign of good faith," Clarke answered.

Anya nodded.

Clarke sighed. "Alright. Well we might not trust each other but we have to work together. We can go our separate ways when we get out but _getting out_ is the priority."

"You said you have a plan?"

Clarke nodded. "But I hope you can understand why I'm going to keep the details to myself for now."

"You're asking me to trust you."

"It's in both of our best interests if you do."

"So _you _say," Anya said, her jaw set firmly.

Clarke, tired of the arguing, slumped down on the edge of the closest bed. "Yeah," she replied. "So I say."

It was quiet for a while. Clarke could hear the bell sound in the mess hall, signaling that breakfast was waiting for them. Her stomach lurched and she couldn't decide if she was hungry or queasy. She chose hungry, figuring she'd just deal with the consequences later if she was wrong.

"What do you need me to do?" Anya finally asked.

Clarke's eyes met those of the grounder princess and for the first time, underneath everything else, Clarke really did see that fierce mother bear. The bear who would shield her cub, regardless of who she had to work with in order to protect that life.

"I need you to blend in with the others," Clarke said. "You're making yourself stand out, hiding over here. Go out there with Jasper. Talk to people, if you can. Just…don't make yourself look so obvious. If they think you're a problem…"

"They'll find a way to get rid of that problem," Anya finished.

"Exactly."

Anya nodded and stalked away toward the mess hall, causing stir of whispers in her wake as others noticed her presence for what must have been the first time in days. Clarke sighed and laid back on the bed, closing her eyes. She was tired again already and the day had barely started. She threw her arm over her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to make herself relax for a minute. Negotiating was hard work.

And apparently her morning wasn't going to get any easier.

"Clarke?"

She peeked out from under her arm to see a freshly-showered Finn walking toward her. She dropped her arm down next to her side but she didn't sit up as he approached.

"Hey Finn," she replied, trying not to look as ungrateful for his presence as she felt.

He turned and gestured behind him. "Am I nuts or did I just see Anya go that way?"

"That was her."

Finn sat down on the bed next to her, still toweling his hair dry. "That's weird," he said. "Your influence I take it?"

"Mmhmmm."

He was quiet for a minute and Clarke closed her eyes, trying to think of an excuse to get up and leave that didn't make her seem too abrupt. She finally decided breakfast was a good enough reason and she pushed herself up to standing.

"You going to breakfast?" he asked, joining her as she started walking around the closest row of beds.

"Yeah," she answered without slowing down or looking at him.

But Finn grabbed her elbow, pulling her back a step. "Hey," he said softly. "Clarke. Is everything okay?"

She turned and fixed him with an incredulous look. "No Finn. Nothing is okay right now."

"I mean with you and me," he said, gesturing between them. "Are we okay?"

Clarke sighed and removed his hand from her elbow gently. "We are about as okay as we can be I guess," she answered.

He seemed a little confused and Clarke didn't know how to explain it to him. There had been a time, a short time, where Finn could do no wrong in her eyes. He had been all hope and peace and comfort. But he'd lied to her. He'd broken the little piece of her heart that she'd been willing to give him. So no, they weren't okay. Not really. But it was such a trivial thing to be worried about right now, broken hearts and whatnot. There were lives at stake right now and she couldn't even take the time to worry about how she felt about…well….anything really. But particularly Finn.

"We're fine, Finn," she said finally, managing a small smile. It seemed to reassure him and she turned, running directly into Bellamy's chest. She hadn't even heard him come up behind her. Finn must have seen him coming but he had given her no indication.

"Careful there, Princess," Bellamy joked, grabbing her by the upper arms and steadying her.

Clarke batted his hands away and glared at him. "Why are you sneaking around like that? I swear, I'm getting you a bell," she mumbled, mostly to herself, before attempting to move around him.

But, similarly to how Finn had stopped her, he grabbed her elbow and she stopped. She watched as he gave Finn a sort of 'Get Lost' look. Finn frowned and shook his head but didn't say anything, stalking off toward the mess hall instead, throwing the occasional frustrated glance back over his shoulder.

Once he was out of sight, Clarke shook Bellamy's hand off. "You didn't have that," she said, unable to explain her sudden annoyance even to herself.

Bellamy shrugged. "It looked like he was bothering you," he replied.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Okay, look. I don't need to be rescued and you don't need to protect me," she said, throwing her hands up. "I'm not your freaking sister."

The moment the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. The look of hurt that flashed in his eyes was more effective at stealing her breath away than a punch to the gut. He covered that quickly with anger and turned on his heal, heading back toward their bunk. He flipped the sheet up roughly and sat on the edge of the bed, refusing to look at her.

Clarke sat next to him, gingerly, pulling her knees up to her chest and propping her heals up on the edge of the bedframe. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Clarke wasn't even sure where to start and he didn't seem like sharing his thoughts either.

"I didn't mean that," she said finally, propping her chin on her knees.

He huffed. "Which part?"

For the life of her, she couldn't even remember what words she'd even used. But it wasn't the words she was apologizing for anyway. It was the tone. And it was the things she'd said between the words.

"Honestly," she said. "I think Octavia is one of the luckiest girls on Earth to have someone in her life who cares like you do."

He took a deep breath and sighed, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees.

Clarke scooted a little closer to him and, on a whim, threw her arm around his shoulder. "You know, she's probably the best equipped out of all of us to be out there right now."

Bellamy laughed and shook his head.

"And she's got Lincoln," she continued. "Which I realize now probably isn't something that makes you feel better."

He smirked. "I actually feel kinda bad for him."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Who do you think's gonna pull the arrow out of her leg?"

Clarke grimaced. "You're right. He's never going to hear the end of it, is he?"

"Nope," Bellamy replied. "Serves him right, though. Why'd he have to pick _my_ sister?"

Clarke propped her chin up on his shoulder. "Maybe because you're the only one who_ has_ a sister?"

He rolled his eyes. "Isn't that just my luck?"

She laughed and squeezed his shoulder a little, trying to apologize for snapping. He seemed to get it because he turned those brown eyes to hers and they weren't hurting or angry anymore. There was more there than she could interpret but she understood at least that he was letting it go and that she should too.

Suddenly, it felt as if he were far too close. She noticed for the first time that his lips were within inches of hers, she could smell the soap on his skin and see that there were still water droplets in his hair. His eyes were searching hers and she had no idea what he was looking for, only that she desperately wanted him to find it. Her heart stopped in her chest as he glanced down toward her lips.

Two teenage boys shouting and snapping towels at one another broke the moment, running past in a blur that was enough to jolt Clarke out of whatever trance those brown eyes had put her in.

She slowly took her arm away from his shoulder and wrapped it around her knees instead.

"So," Bellamy said, apparently as determined not to worry about what had just occurred as she was. "What's with you this morning?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. "You don't usually get annoyed so fast. It's a little early in the day for all that."

Clarke groaned and flopped backwards on the bed with her eyes closed, her head almost hitting the wall behind her. "I talked to Anya."

"And it didn't go well?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I guess it went as well as to be expected, all things considering. But she had me a little worked up, on edge. And so when Finn came over…I just let him get under my skin I guess. I shouldn't have. He didn't even do anything."

"He doesn't have to," Bellamy replied. "All he has to do is be breathing sometimes."

Clarke snickered. It wasn't really true. She didn't really feel that way about Finn. Maybe Bellamy did but she didn't. Usually.

"Would this be a symptom?" Bellamy ventured. "You being…kind of…"

"I swear to God if you say the word hormonal, we're going to have issues."

He laughed. "How would you describe it then?"

She opened her eyes and caught him smirking down at her.

Pushing herself up and off the bed, she stood, deciding she'd had enough talk about feelings and symptoms. "I'm going to go with anxious," she said, lifting her chin a bit as she said it. "I'm ready to get this plan underway. Let's go eat."

She held her hand out to pull him, knowing he didn't really need it. He took it and humored her and she tugged him toward the mess hall. Once she was sure he wasn't going to argue, she dropped his hand. Immediately, that loss of connection to him formed a knot in her throat. One look over her shoulder to see him only a step away eased that a little and she smiled despite herself.

* * *

><p>"<em>It's not your eyes. It's not what you say. It's not your laughter that gives you away. You're just lonely. You've been lonely, too long."<em>

_The Civil Wars "Dust to Dust"_


	12. Chapter 12

"Up In Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Twelve

"I'll Remain"

* * *

><p>Bellamy ignored how the cold of the metal wall behind him leached through his thin shirt as he leaned against it next to the doorway, a sandwich of toast and eggs in hand. He watched the room as Clarke took her breakfast over to sit with Raven and Harper. He knew that she could feel him watching her. He knew it because she was specifically not responding to it. The whole thing might have been counter-intuitive to anyone else but he knew she got it and that was all that mattered.<p>

However Raven seemed to get it too. The second time she caught him staring, she stuck her tongue out at him and waggled her fingers in his direction. He grinned as Clarke, with her back to him, put her hands over her face and said something that made Raven burst into laughter. He'd have loved to know what it was but he found he was just as content not knowing.

Content. That wasn't a feeling he'd expected to feel, all things considered. It was a sobering thought, pulling the grin from his face rather quickly. He took another bite of his sandwich, letting his eyes continue around the room.

Jasper and Monty had odd company with Anya sitting in their midst. She couldn't have felt more out of place, clean and dressed in white like the rest of them. Without her braids and war paint, she could have almost passed for one of them. She was busy eating and had the appearance of being at ease but Bellamy knew better. Her eyes were darting around the room, much in the same way his were. She met his eyes once and he saw them narrow across the distance of the room. He felt his jaw tighten and he nodded slightly, a nod that she surprisingly returned. It wasn't trust but it felt like something akin to respect and he figured that was as good as he was likely to get.

He was recognizing more and more of their people now. Initially he'd been almost lost in a sea of foreign faces. They'd never all been so clean before. With most of the indicators of their personalities basically stripped away with the grit and the grime, he'd been at a loss to put names to the various faces.

One thing he was sure of though was that there were no Mountain girls here. There had been ten of them paired up with their guys, or so they had been told, but the girls weren't here. He wasn't sure how to process this information and realized he might have to have an actual conversation with Finn Collins after all.

He popped the last bite of his breakfast in his mouth and brushed his hands on his pants before crossing his arms, still not finding the face he was really looking for.

But as fate would have it, John Murphy happened to step through the doorway just then. He seemed startled to see Bellamy there, just inside the door, and he back-tracked quickly, heading back to the dorms.

Bellamy followed, hot on his heels. "Hey Murphy," he called as they neared the back of the room.

Murphy stopped, his shoulders tense, and turned slowly. "Bellamy," he answered, holding his hands up. "Look, I don't want any trouble."

Bellamy laughed incredulously. "Oh that's rich. _You_ don't want any trouble?"

"No. I don't," he replied. "You can ask anyone here. I haven't bothered anybody."

"Yet you mean. You murdered two people the last time we trusted you."

Murphy's expression hardened and Bellamy could see him flexing his fists. "They tried to kill me."

"You hanged me."

Murphy laughed and threw his arms out wide. "Well at least we're even there."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath, watching as Murphy reached up and rubbed his face.

"You wanna talk Raven next on your list of shit I messed up?" Murphy asked, one hand gesturing toward the mess hall where the girl in question as still having breakfast with the others. "Have you even _talked_ to her about that yet?"

Bellamy frowned. "No. Why would I? We know what happened. You shot her."

Murphy shook his head and pointed to his eye. Bellamy hadn't noticed it before but the eye was puffy and noticeably darkened underneath. "See the shiner? Raven socked me one hard when she first saw me in here, alright? And then she told everyone to back up off me because she knows what really went down."

"What are you talking about?"

Murphy inclined his chin toward the mess hall. "Go ask _her_."

"I'm asking _you_."

"Look, whatever," Murphy grumbled. "I didn't mean to shoot her, alright? It was an accident. A misfire. I didn't even see her until after the gun went off."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Bellamy asked. "If that's true then why'd she hit you?"

Murphy shrugged. "Because it was a dick move, leaving her there. But I knew you guys were probably coming after me so _somebody_ would find her. And because accident or not, I mean I did freaking _shoot_ her."

Bellamy closed his eyes for a second and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd have to talk to Raven about this but he had a feeling that Murphy was telling the truth. Obviously he was trying to absolve himself of blame so he _did_ have a reason to lie. And yet it somehow rang true which somehow managed to piss Bellamy off more than it did to comfort him.

"How did you even end up in here? With us?" Bellamy finally asked dropping his hands.

"I circled back after I heard the drop ship fire off. It was either that or run right into what was left of the grounders. I didn't make it though. Some guys with guns and masks gassed me and that's all I got. Until I woke up in that white room with the girl."

"Harper."

"Huh?"

Bellamy took a step forward and watched as Murphy visibly shrank back a little. "The girl. Her name is Harper," Bellamy reiterated. "Harper is the name of the mother of your child. You should _really _get to know it."

Murphy continued to take steps backwards as Bellamy advanced on him.

"You know, she says you didn't do anything wrong by her," Bellamy continued, feeling his anger and frustration start to boil over. "She says you didn't hurt her. But you and I both know what you're capable of. You want to earn back a little trust around here? You wanna get out of this mountain with your life? Take care of Harper."

"How?" Murphy asked, pushing Bellamy back a step, his eyes wild. "What the hell are we supposed to do here, huh? I don't know anything about this shit. Hell, I was never first choice for father material. I was never gonna have kids."

"None of us _chose_ this. _None_ of us. But that doesn't fucking matter now, does it?"

"Fine!" Murphy shouted and Bellamy fought the desire to take another step back. "Fine. Tell me what the _hell_ I'm supposed to do to help her. I'll do it, okay? So tell me. What do_ you_ do? What are you doing to help the princess, huh?"

Bellamy swallowed hard and turned away, pacing. What _was _he doing? Mostly, he was avoiding the topic because she seemed to want to avoid it, too. He knew they'd have to talk about it eventually. And in the meantime? He was just…there. That seemed to be enough right now. Being there and helping her with their plan to get out.

But Murphy needed an actual answer. He was waiting, arms dangling by his sides and a look of complete and utter loss on his face.

"Look," Bellamy said, stopping his pacing. "I can't speak for Harper. I don't know what _she_ needs. But I know she's got to be freaking out, thinking she's about to try and do this all by herself. So you go find out what she needs. And you sure as hell find a way to make it happen, whatever it is."

Murphy sighed and took a seat on the closest bed, burying his face in his hands.

"You say that like it's so easy," he said, his voice muffled.

Bellamy laughed, a sound completely devoid of humor. "It's not. Believe me, it's not."

"Then how do you do it?"

"Because I _have_ to. Because I don't know how _not_ to. And I mostly don't know what the hell I'm doing," Bellamy admitted. "I'm just taking it a day at a time."

They were quiet for a minute, processing the weight that they were both suffering under.

"Is it true that you guys are gonna bust us out of here?" Murphy finally asked, uncovering his face and propping his chin in his hands. "That it's not safe?"

"Does it feel safe here to you?"

"Hell no."

Bellamy crossed his arms again and looked Murphy in the eye. "Look, I don't trust you. So you're not getting any information on this. But if you want to make sure you don't get left behind, your best bet is to do what I said."

"And take care of the girl."

"Take care of Harper."

"Harper."

Bellamy nodded and was about to turn around and head back to the mess hall when he heard a distinct buzzing sound come from that direction.

"That's just Raven," Murphy called out from behind him as Bellamy headed back toward the front of the room. "Stupid metal detector always goes off when she goes through it."

Bellamy froze and waited as all the hints Clarke had given him about the spoon finally settled into place. Of course. The guards had checked Raven a dozen times or more by now so they had to be getting a little lax about it. She'd managed to tuck the spoon away in a place that a general pat-down wouldn't reveal it.

As if to confirm his suspicions, Raven walked into the hallway area and winked at him on her way straight through to the bathroom. He couldn't help the smirk of admiration that pulled at him as Jasper and Harper followed after, not entirely looking like they were following her which was good.

He glanced back over his shoulder to see that Murphy had made himself scarce.

He'd just decided to check in with Clarke when the girl in question came around the corner, hardly hiding the pride she must have felt for circumventing the system.

Bellamy crossed his arms and leaned against the bunk that he was next to. "Your secret plan seems to have worked."

With her back to the camera, she let herself show the grin that had been simmering under the surface since she'd entered the room. "Perfectly."

"Where the hell did she put it?" he asked and then, with a shake of his head, said, "You know, never mind. Maybe I don't want to know."

Clarke scoffed and shoved at his shoulder. "You're gross. God, it was just under her boobs."

"What?"

She shrugged. "Raven said one of the first times they patted her down, one of the guys kind of copped a feel and she busted his nose with her elbow."

"Sounds about right."

"So since then, they've been very…judicious…with their pat-downs. So she tucked it into her bra under her boobs and sailed right on through."

Bellamy shook his head and sighed.

Clarke frowned. "What?"

"You two never cease to surprise me," Bellamy replied. And it was true. He'd never known anyone else as smart or cunning as Clarke or Raven. Having the two of them on the same team meant hell for whoever stood against them. The Mountain people would never know what hit them.

Clarke couldn't seem to tell if he was giving her a compliment or if he was teasing her and settled for just raising an eyebrow.

"So are they taking care of it now?" he asked, trying his hardest to not look toward the bathroom while he talked.

"Yeah. Jasper volunteered to be her ladder."

Bellamy couldn't help it. "Jasper? Is holding Raven up there?"

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Okay, he is not that scrawny," she said. She paused to take in Bellamy's bemused look before continuing. "Well…maybe he is. But he's tall. And Raven only weighs a hundred pounds, sopping wet, so surely he can manage. Anyway, what have you been doing? I missed it when you slipped away."

He felt his heart thump a little louder at the thought that she'd been keeping track of him as surely as he had been keeping track of her but he didn't let himself think about it too much. "I cornered Murphy."

Some of the previous good cheer seemed to melt from her face at the mention of their long-time nemesis. "Well you're not bleeding. That's a good sign. Wait," she said, quickly looking around. "_He's_ not bleeding, is he?"

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "No. We played nice."

"Really?"

He shrugged.

"What's his deal?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Do we need to worry about him? I mean, we have a lot of other things to worry about. I'd be nice if we didn't have to put him on that list."

Bellamy shook his head. "I don't know. He's kind of in shock, like the rest of us I guess. Did you know he didn't shoot Raven on purpose?"

Clarke nodded. "She and I talked about that over breakfast. She's on the fence with him, I guess. She said he's been quiet since she punched him though. So I mean, maybe we can just ignore him."

He sighed. "He's probably gonna want to leave when we do."

"Oh now _that's _a really bad idea," Clarke said with frustration. "Tell me you didn't tell him he could go with us."

Bellamy shrugged.

"What?" Clarke exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I was thinking about Harper."

Clarke froze. "What?"

"I told him he needed to take care of Harper. That if he wanted a way out of here the only way he could get it was through taking care of her."

She stared at him for a long moment, her lips parted and her eyes completely unable to convey whatever it was she was thinking. She took a deep breath and turned away from him for a minute, her hands on her hips.

"I'm trying to think ahead here, Princess," Bellamy said. "You were the one who said something about how avoiding the truth doesn't make it not true, right?"

Clarke turned around slowly, all of the color drained from her face. "I don't want to talk about this right now," she said and made as if to shake the entire conversation off.

"Well then when, Clarke?" he asked, pushing himself away from the bunk. "Because we're on a timetable, you know. We can't put it off forever."

"And what are we even supposed to say about it?" she asked, throwing her hands up. "What's the point? Why should we get ourselves all worked up about it anyway? It won't help anything. It won't change anything. And you know what? If we can get out of here quickly enough it might not even matter anyway."

Bellamy frowned. "What might not matter? What are you talking about?"

Clarke swallowed hard, her eyes darting away from his. "If we get out of here in the next couple of week, it'll still be early enough…Monty…he knows the right herbs to undo this."

"Undo…it?"

She nodded, still not looking at him, pacing from side to side as she spoke. "Which would strike several of our post-escape worries off the list, for everyone who's interested."

Bellamy could not wrap his brain around what had just been said. Logically, it made every bit of sense. It was a practical alternative to giving birth to unintended children in the wilderness. What was it that he'd just told Murphy about how none of them had wanted this? None of them had chosen this? Clarke was providing a very practical and logical way of taking back their own destinies, of making choices based on freewill. She was giving him an out.

He didn't want an out.

He had spent an inordinate amount of time actively not thinking about the pregnancy, thinking of it as a condition with symptoms rather than the promise of a child. Until this moment, he hadn't even really thought about the idea of this actually resulting in a child. A baby. A tiny perfect human that the two of them had managed to put together. Freewill suddenly didn't matter so much. Fate and destiny and choice all fled from his mind at the thought that his little person might cease to exist.

"Clarke…." He started, trailing off. He wasn't even sure he had words to express how badly he did not want her to make that choice. He was completely dumbfounded, the blood rushing in his ears so loudly that he couldn't even hear anything else. He wasn't sure he'd ever been so speechless in his life.

Could she? Make that choice? Clarke was nothing if not practical. She was thinking ahead, putting the health and well-being of others ahead of herself. He gulped and waited for her to finally turn back to face him.

And when she did, he had his answer.

Her cheeks were stained with tears as she held her breath, waiting for him to say something, anything.

He reached forward and grabbed her by the upper arms, dragging her toward the open bunk and jerking the sheet down. She was trembling, tears still steadily trailing down her cheeks, still waiting for some sort of indication. He knew then that if he'd said yes to the herbs, she'd have taken them and not looked back. Knowing it gutted him and he found that she wasn't the only one shaking as they settled with their backs against the wall, shoulders touching.

Bellamy took a deep, steadying breath, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall.

"Is that what you want?" he finally made himself ask, though he was fairly sure he knew the answer.

She sighed heavily beside him. "I'm such a mess right now. I don't know."

"You_ do_ know."

He heard her head thump against the wall next to his.

"I don't know what the right answer is here, Bellamy."

The way his name fell from her lips, full of sorrow and helplessness, so unlike anything he'd ever heard from her, broke his heart. She was still trying to leave the door open for him. That's why she wouldn't answer. So he'd do it for her.

"Don't do it," he said firmly. "Don't find the herbs."

It was quiet between them for a while. They could hear a few of their people milling about but since there wasn't much to do in the dorms during the day besides sleep, a lot of them had stayed in the mess hall with the books and the games. He'd never been more thankful for the flimsy sheet that hung before them as he was for it now.

"You don't have to do this," she said.

"No. I don't," he replied.

"But you're doing it anyway."

He reached between them and took her hand, sliding his fingers between hers.

After another few moments of quiet, she sighed again. "I didn't want to. I mean, I thought about it. Finding the herbs. It made sense. So it had to be said. I had to say something. It had to be an option but…I didn't…I just didn't…" she trailed off and even though they both still had their eyes closed he knew the tears had started again. He rubbed his thumb along her fingers and let her have her moment.

"You don't have to give me an out," he said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

She sniffled. "It's asking a lot of you though."

"Asking you to go through with it is a lot, too," he replied.

He could feel her shake her head. "Keeping this…baby…" she said, stumbling over the words. "It's a lifetime, Bellamy. It's forever."

"Mmhmmm."

"I can't ask that from you," she said.

Bellamy felt his throat closing up and his palms were sweating. "You're not asking."

The moment stretched for a little while. Bellamy pulled one of his knees up, getting more comfortable.

He startled a little when Clarke laughed. Opening his eyes, he turned to look at her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Clarke let go of his hand, bringing both of hers up to her face. "I'm sorry," she said with a gasp, laughing again. "I just…I don't even…" she trailed off and laughter morphed into sobs as those bright blue eyes began to overflow again.

She leaned forward, propping her forehead on his knee and wrapping her arms around his leg as her body was wracked with sobs. Bellamy placed his hand on her back, trailing up and down her spine as she shook with tears.

* * *

><p>"<em>If you were to stop talking I don't know what I'd do. The future's far less daunting walking into it with you."<em>

_Lauren Aquilina "Wonder"_


	13. Chapter 13

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Thirteen

"Here We Are"

* * *

><p>Clarke wasn't sure how long she laid there with her head in his lap. He'd adjusted at some point and she laid down, her head on his thigh, curled into a ball. Bellamy hadn't quite known what to do so she just told him to keep doing what he was doing. Which he did, running his fingers along her back while she tried to decompress.<p>

She'd meant to talk to him about this once they were closer to leaving, or maybe even in a group setting so she couldn't get cornered about it. The idea of terminating the pregnancies had come to her before she'd even known she was pregnant. She'd thought about it back in the white room, as a last resort contingency plan. It was why she had actively tried not to think about this as a baby, as a potential life. She had known that she could undo it if she had to so she'd been trying not to get attached to the idea of the pregnancy.

But he'd made her think about it. Whether he'd meant to or not, he'd given her the image in her mind of a baby, a real person, a tiny melding of the two of them. It hadn't been what he'd said. The words hadn't mattered. It was the look on his face, that heartbroken, open-eyed stare. The disbelief on his face that she would consider doing this. It was the realization that he might want the baby that made her realize that this was indeed a baby. And it was only half hers. She couldn't make the decision alone and once she understood that, it was all over but the crying. Quite literally.

Her tears had finally spent themselves out a little while ago and she was feeling much calmer. She wasn't sure she was ready to face him though. Her mind was reeling with his proposition, with his promise to always be there. It felt like something really good and it scared her. It scared her far more than she was ready to admit.

With a sigh, she pushed herself back up to sitting and tucked her hair back out of her face.

She glanced over her shoulder to see him watching her, a little warily but without any judgment. He was tense though, as if he expected her to cry again at any moment.

"It's okay," she said with a smirk and a sniffle. "I think I'm all cried out. You can relax."

Bellamy sighed and tucked his hands behind his head. He was still leaning back against the wall and didn't look the least bit comfortable. But he managed to return that smirk anyway and even though it wasn't his real smile, it was better than his previous expression. "You know, if you keep crying on me I might start to think you actually like me."

"Pfft," Clarke responded. "Excuse me for sprinkling you with my tears."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," he said with a shrug. "Just…you know…don't go sprinkling them on anybody else."

Clarke rolled her eyes and felt her cheeks warm at the implication. She wasn't sure he meant it the way she'd taken it though so she shrugged it off.

She brought her hands up to rub her face and grimaced at how sticky and raw it felt after all the crying. "I think I'm going to go get a shower. I need to check on Raven anyway. They've been in there way too long. They shouldn't be in there more than fifteen or twenty minutes. I don't want the Mountain people to start wondering what's going on in there. And I feel kind of gross now so a shower sounds fantastic."

"Makes sense," he said. "You want any help?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure I can shower by myself."

Bellamy rolled his eyes and dropped his hands back down. "I'm talking about the Raven part."

"No, it'll be fine," she answered. "Besides, the fewer people we have spending time in there, the better."

She left for the bathroom with the intense desire to turn back and look at him the entire time she was walking away. But she was feeling a little raw right now, and vulnerable, and she decided that she was in no position to get so distracted. Their plan to get out was finally underway. And now that she knew for certain that this little life was going to be born on the other side of these walls, she was more determined than ever to get out there.

Clarke had no idea what to expect when she made her way toward the back of the shower area but it certainly wasn't the sight that she was presented with.

Raven was sitting on Murphy's shoulders with her knees spread impossibly wide, working on the screws. Murphy held her ankles to keep her from falling. Jasper and Harper were standing back, both with arms crossed, watching her work.

Murphy. He was _not_ supposed to know the details of their escape plan. She clenched her jaw and knew that Bellamy was going to have a fit over this turn of events.

"What the hell is this?" she asked as she approached, gesturing toward Murphy.

"What does it look like?" Murphy answered. He was so close to the wall that is nose was practically against it. "I'm helping."

Clarke could barely see his eyes over the edge of Raven's thigh. So she turned to Jasper instead, waiting for an explanation with eyebrows raised and jaw set.

Jasper gulped. "Look, I tried to hold her up there, okay? But it was taking a while. And then Harper tried. And then Murphy came in here_ looking_ for Harper and…well…"

"I saved your asses," Murphy finished.

Raven gripped her fingers through the metal grating on the vent and used it to pull her body forward, which in turn bumped Murphy's forehead into the wall. Hard.

"Would you stop fucking doing that?" he growled, jerking her ankles down and wobbling her precariously.

Jasper put a hand on Raven's back to keep her upright but Raven didn't seem bothered. She just snickered and addressed Clarke instead. "It's been slow going. These things haven't been loosened in a long-ass time. But this is the last one aaaaannnnd…." She trailed off as she put leverage on the last screw. Murphy moved his hands up to her calves and widened his stance as she leaned into the motion. When it finally gave way, they both tilted for a second before Murphy got them upright again. From the smoothness of the motion, Clarke could tell this wasn't the first screw that had come undone in this fashion, which meant Murphy must have been helping for a while.

"Can I put you down yet?" he asked, his voice a little strained from the exertion.

"Easy there, Killer. Gimme a sec," Raven said, putting the spoon between her teeth as she examined something Clarke couldn't see from the ground. She nodded to herself and then reached down to put her hands on Murphy's shoulders, dropping herself down on her own. He was visibly relieved and turned to lean against the wall.

"I don't get it," Harper said. "Why'd you spend all the time turning the screws if you weren't gonna take the grate off?"

Raven turned to answer her but Clarke got to it first. "Because we don't want to make it so obvious to everyone else. Now that they're loose, it'll only take a couple minutes to get the grate off. But if we take it off now and leave it off, people are going to notice."

Jasper nodded. "And then they'll talk about it."

"In front of the cameras," Harper said with a knowing look. "And we'll all get caught."

"Exactly," Clarke confirmed. Turning her eyes to Raven, she asked, "So what's it look like in there?"

Raven sighed and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. "I can reroute the power to the fan, continue the circuit so when we turn the fan off, they won't know. They'll keep getting the same signal and they won't send maintenance down to fix the damn thing."

Clarke frowned. "I sense a 'but' coming."

"But," Raven said. "I need something to strip wires with."

"You know they won't give us anything even remotely sharp," Jasper chimed in. He'd done a little wire work with Raven on the drop ship and knew the kind of equipment they'd used before. "But what if we just sharpen something we already have?"

Raven turned her attention to him. "What are you thinking?"

"Some of those board games in there have little wooden discs for pieces, right?" he said. "We could take a few of them and sharpen them enough to cut through the plastic."

Murphy grunted from his place against the wall. "Sharpen them how?"

"The floor in the dorms is concrete," Jasper replied with a shrug. "We could just rub them on the floor."

Clarke nodded. "And since they're made of wood, they won't set of the metal detectors. I like it," she said. "Will that do, Raven?"

The girl shrugged. "It's worth a shot. Gotta start somewhere, right?"

"Okay. Jasper, you and Monty take care of that. But be discreet. And for God's sake don't build another fort," Clarke said. Jasper mock-saluted her and left. Raven waited about thirty seconds before doing the same. Murphy was waiting in the doorway as Harper was about to take her turn.

But Clarke had a sudden idea and pulled the girl back by her elbow. "Wait Harper. I have a favor to ask you."

Murphy glanced at them but turned back around, not wanting to seem too much like he was waiting for Harper and failing miserably.

Harper followed Clarke back far enough to not be overheard.

"I bet I can guess your favor," Harper said once they were sure they were far enough back.

"Oh?" Clarke asked with raised eyebrows.

Harper jerked her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the boy in the doorway. "You want me to babysit Murphy."

Clarke shook her head. "Not babysit exactly. Just…keep an eye on him, I guess. Let me know if he seems like he's going to be a problem."

She nodded. "Yeah. I can do that," she said. "And you know, I'm sorry. That he found out about the plan or whatever. He said he was looking for me. I don't know_ why_ seeing as he hasn't said two words to me since we got out of the white room but whatever, you know?"

Clarke knew why Murphy was looking for her but she didn't feel like it was her place to say anything so she didn't. She just nodded and watched as the girl turned and left, Murphy following her as she went.

Once Clarke was finally in the shower, she realized it was the last place she wanted to be. It felt too secluded, too isolated. And while the hot water felt really nice, washing away the remnants of her earlier battle with emotions, she was too alone with her thoughts. Thoughts that were increasingly returning to the little life she was currently growing and the partner who was tied to it.

She had said the word 'forever' and he hadn't even flinched. She couldn't quite process how she felt about that. On the one hand, her heart was hammering in her chest in a way that felt eerily close to happiness. On the other, he didn't have as much free will in this decision as they both were pretending. This pregnancy was the beginning of an obligation that he hadn't chosen. And while he could, hypothetically, walk away from the situation, they both knew he wouldn't. Even if he wanted to walk away he wouldn't. How could she ever know whether he was in this child's life because he wanted to be or because he was obligated to be?

Clarke cut her shower short, getting out immediately after getting clean and wasting no time getting dressed. She carried her dirty clothes out with her to the bank of sinks and the long, shiny metal mirror hanging behind it. Looking at herself in the mirror, she wished they had access to a hair brush of some sort. She did the best she could with her fingers, picking at the worst of the snarls and straightening what she could. She also hated that they had nothing to secure their braids with. She knew the other girls were lamenting the ability to tie back their hair in the way they were used to. On the Ark, scraps of cloth had mostly been what was available to tie up braids.

With that though, she looked down at her shirt from the previous day and she had an idea. Her eyes searched the room until she found what she was looking for, a small, metal protrusion on one edge of the mirror. She snagged the shirt on that edge and pulled until it started to rip. Once she had the start of a rip, she could do exactly what she wanted. She tore the shirt into strip after strip, trimming them down into small ties. By the time she was finished, she had several dozen little hair ties.

She took up her own hair on either side of her face, two small tendrils, and pulled them around to the back of her head, tying them off the same way she'd always done at the drop ship. It didn't take as long as putting it in braids and was perfect for keeping her hair out of her face. She stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror, feeling more comfortable with the reflection than she had in a while.

Dropping the remnants of her discarded shirt in the tiny laundry chute, she gathered up the rest of the ties and went out to the mess hall.

One quick announcement got the attention she wanted and the girls basically flocked forward excitedly to get ties for their hair. With grins and laughter, they fell into pairs and groups, braiding their own hair and one another's. It was a small thing but it felt like parts of their personalities were coming back as the braids were woven.

Clarke stayed in the doorway, watching. Most of the guys had groaned at their new pursuit and had split off, either going back to the dorms or to the bathroom. A few had stayed, those that weren't paying attention and were playing games instead, and those who were just as happy as the girls were, helping with braids or just lending moral support and companionship.

At one point, Clarke tensed as she watched Penelope and a group of another three or four girls headed toward the table where Anya sat alone, trying not to notice how happy the others were. Clarke was waiting for a fight to break out, for there to be angry words or fists thrown.

But the girls just offered Anya several of the ties, knowing that the Grounder was partial to a braid or two as well. She seemed a little skeptical at first. But Penelope kind of shooed the other girls away and sat at the table with Anya, apparently asking about Grounder braids. The two of them talked for a while before Anya motioned for Penelope to turn around. She then started braiding the girl's strawberry-blonde hair. Clarke wasn't sure what had transpired between them but she was glad for it. Any strengthening of ties between their people and the Grounders was a positive development in her book.

"What's going on here?"

Clarke jumped a little at Bellamy's voice sounding by her ear and she threw him an annoyed look that he ignored. He settled in against the wall beside her, taking in the image of their girls laughing and joking with one another as they slowly became the people he recognized.

"Getting back to our roots," Clarke answered with a gesture of her hands.

He nodded. "Glad to see you look like you again," he said, nodding his head toward her own hair tie.

She frowned. "I didn't look like me before?" she asked, genuinely curious and still not sure whether he was teasing her or not.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Now you just look like the normal you."

She raised an eyebrow.

"See?" he said with a smirk. "Badass Clarke, warrior Princess."

She laughed and shook her head, refusing to believe that tying her hair back changed her. But as she looked around the room, taking in the new light in the eyes of their people, the personalities brought back to the surface and with it, the will to fight, and she realized there might actually be some truth to what he was saying.

"Well, we needed something," she said finally.

He nodded and they were quiet for a while. Most of the girls were finished now, dispersing and going back to their usual business. Some were off to reading, others picking out games, and still others off in search of the boys.

"You know, I was thinking about something," she started, breaking their silence.

"Should I be scared?" he teased and she rolled her eyes, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Well now I'm rethinking what I was going to say."

"Oh whatever. You're gonna say whatever you want anyway."

She smirked. "Perks of being a badass I guess."

He laughed. It was such a genuine moment that Clarke felt heat rising up her neck at the sound, her heart beat faster at the sound. Her palms felt a little moist at the sound. And she had to remind herself that she'd heard him laugh before. This was nothing new despite how new it felt to her now.

"Anyway," she continued, trying to ignore how his laughter had affected her. "You like to tease me a lot about liking you. Just so you know, I think I actually do."

"What? Like me?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. Why? Does that make this—whatever it is…" she said, gesturing between them. "Does it make it weird?"

He shook his head no but his face had lost a little of the mirth he'd had before. "No."

She frowned. "Well now you_ look_ weird. What is it?"

Bellamy froze, thinking hard about something she wasn't privy to. She was really starting to wish she hadn't said anything. She'd been ready to tease him about the whole thing. It was supposed to be funny, a joke. She hadn't expected him to turn so serious.

"Do you still trust me?" he asked, his eyes searching hers as if he were expecting the worst.

"What?" she asked, blindsided by his question. "How could you ask me that? Of course I do. What would make you think I didn't?"

His shoulders visibly relaxed at her answer, even if his expression still seemed too tense. "In my experience,_ you_ either like somebody_ or_ trust them. Not usually both."

And she knew he was talking about Finn. He hadn't said it but she knew that's what he was thinking. She liked Finn but she didn't trust him. She'd trusted Bellamy and he'd thought she didn't like him. She hadn't really realized she'd liked him, not until recently. But, upon thinking back on it, she'd liked him for a lot longer than she had noticed.

"Guess I'm trying something new," she said, bumping his arm with her shoulder again. "You're the trial case. So good luck there, Guinea Pig."

Bellamy shook his head, a genuine smile breaking through his previous anxiety. "Nick names have to be the _only _thing you're not good at."

"Wow," she replied. "Go easy on the compliments there or else I might think you like me, too."

He chuckled. "Can't have that now, can we?"

"Nope," she said, taking a chance and leaning a little closer to him, their arms pressed against each other. "Might throw off the whole balance of the universe."

He smirked and shook his head, turning twinkling eyes back to the room at large. He leaned a little more her way, returning the pressure she'd started and Clarke thought she might be able to get used to this.

* * *

><p><em>"The time will come when you'll have to rise above the best and prove yourself. Your spirit never dies."<em>

_Imagine Dragons "Warriors"_


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: SPOILER WARNING. Spoilers for Episode 2.08 are located in an author's note at the end of the chapter. If you have not seen the mid-season finale, please skip that note. There are no spoilers within the chapter material itself but I'd hate to spoil anyone with the note at the end. Consider yourselves warned. Thank you.

Luca

* * *

><p>"Up in Flames"<p>

Lucawindmover

Chapter Fourteen

"What Piece I've Lost"

* * *

><p>"So are you and Clarke like together now or something?"<p>

Bellamy startled, looking up from the book he'd been reading. He was propped up in the bed across from their usual bunk, curbing his boredom with a dusty, old paperback sporting a catchy title and vaguely interesting synopsis. He frowned at Finn who was standing at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What does it matter to you, Spacewalker?" he said by way of answer. He tucked his thumb into the book to mark his place and let the cover fall shut.

"It matters because I care about Clarke," Finn answered. "And I don't want to see her get hurt."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Like _you_ hurt her?"

Finn's eyes narrowed a little but he otherwise seemed to ignore the jibe. "We both know how you usually treat girls. I'm just saying."

"Oh, you mean how I usually sleep with girls who know it's only about _sex_," Bellamy responded. "Rather than letting them believe it's true love or some shit?"

Finn opened his mouth to respond and then stopped. He frowned, his eyebrows knit closely together. "You guys are sleeping together?"

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "She's pregnant, isn't she? How'd you think that happened, immaculate conception?"

"I mean now," Finn said with a shake of his head. "Since the white room."

"Like I said before," Bellamy replied slowly. "What does it matter to you?"

"Because I love her, okay?" Finn said, throwing his arms out wide. "Yeah, I made mistakes. But it doesn't undo the fact that I love her. Can you say that? Huh? Do you love her?"

Bellamy could feel his jaw tense and he turned his eyes away from his interrogator for a moment. Did he love Clarke? He knew the short answer was yes. But it was complicated. He had no idea if he loved her the way Finn was implying. Knowing the answer to that partly involved whether or not Clarke felt the same way and currently she was far too vulnerable a state to make any kind of decisions along those lines. He wasn't about to put any more on her right now than was absolutely necessary. But when he thought of his partner, saw her dimpled smile in his mind's eye, her expression of annoyance aimed in his direction, her ability to steel herself against any foe, the compassion she held for both those who deserved it and those who didn't, he knew the answer was yes. He loved her.

Finn caught his moment of indecision and read it for what it was. His eyes widened and he blew out a deep breath, taking a second to run his hands through his hair before propping them on his hips. "You do, don't you?"

Bellamy groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. He didn't answer but his silence was probably confirmation enough.

He felt the bed dip as Finn took a seat on the end of it. When Bellamy opened his eyes it was to see the boy leaning forward with his head in his hands.

Bellamy had never thought much of Finn. They'd been on opposing sides of almost every single decision the group had made to this point. He'd broken Clarke's heart and nearly run Raven off into the forest. But he'd done good things too. Bellamy didn't want to admit it but Finn was likely the reason he was even still alive. If Finn hadn't jumped into the fray during the battle at the drop ship…Bellamy might not have lived long enough to be in this impossible situation with Clarke. Just like anyone else, Finn was a sum of all his parts and it wasn't fair to judge him by any one behavior. But Bellamy wanted to. He wanted to beat Finn senseless for how he'd hurt Clarke, for betraying her trust the way he had. But it wasn't his place. He wasn't Clarke's keeper. If anyone was going to knock him out it would be Clarke. Or maybe Raven. And since neither of them had done so, Bellamy assumed it wasn't necessary despite how tempting it was.

"I just want her to be happy," Finn said softly from behind his hands. "I wish that it could be with me…but if it can't…I don't know. I just want her to be happy."

Bellamy huffed. "Well that's not fucking likely in here."

Finn turned and looked at him, a resigned expression on his features. "That's not entirely true," he said with a sigh. "You…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "She…smiles. When she looks at you, she smiles."

Bellamy was dumbfounded. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed that same phenomenon because he had. He just hadn't connected it to anything. Somehow it hadn't connected with him, this idea that he could make her smile.

"You'll take care of her, won't you?" Finn asked, genuine emotion in his voice.

And it pissed Bellamy off. "You know what? Fuck that. Clarke's a big girl. She can take care of herself," he said, throwing the book down next to him and crossing his arms. "And she's not some damn possession to be handed off."

"That's not what I—"

"I know what you're doing here," Bellamy said, narrowing his eyes. "I get it. Trust me, I get it. But I don't make decisions for Clarke. And I sure as hell am not gonna fight her battles. If she wants or needs anything from me, she'll tell me. And she'll get it. But as far as this bullshit—" he said with a gesture between the two of them. "We're not doing this. I'm not doing this with you."

Finn looked down at his hands with a sigh. "Fine," he said and he stood as if he was going to leave.

"Wait," Bellamy called after him. He swallowed down his anger and frustration for a moment, remembering that he had other reasons for needing to talk to him. It was a crap segue but he'd lost his patience with Finn and he was ready to just be done talking with him for now. "What can you tell me about the mountain girl?"

"Who? Keenan?" he asked, still standing at the foot of the bed. "What do you want to know about her?"

"Do you know where she is?" Bellamy asked, scooting forward on the edge of the bed.

Finn frowned and shook his head. "They told us on the monitor that we'd each be going back to our people so I assume she's back with her family," he said. "She has parents and a little sister."

"She's the reason you don't want to leave," Bellamy said, matter-of-factly.

"I don't know," Finn said, his shoulders sagging a little. "I mean, I should _want_ to stay, right? Take care of the baby? Take care of my obligations to Keenan?"

"What about your obligations to us?" Bellamy asked. "You're still our best tracker. It'll be winter soon. It'll be hell trying to hunt enough food to keep everyone fed without you."

Finn closed his eyes for a second, his hands curling into fists at his side. "It's my _kid_, Bellamy. I have to take care of my kid. Do you mean to tell me you aren't gonna take care of yours?"

"That's different," Bellamy answered. "My kid is going _with_ us."

"But if it came down to what was best for your kid and what was best for the group, what do you choose?"

Bellamy didn't have an answer for that and found himself hoping he never had to make that choice.

"Look," Bellamy said after a moment. "You know better than anybody how sick it makes me to have to say this but…" he sighed. "We need you. We _will need you_ out there." He maintained eye contact with Finn, trying to impart how important it was for him to leave when the rest of them did.

Finn nodded and left with lot to think about. As he walked off in the direction of the mess hall he was passed by Raven who simply nodded at him on her way past, heading toward Bellamy.

"Hey Shooter," she said by way of greeting. "Mind a little company?"

He shrugged. "You're a lot better than the previous company," he said as she took a seat on the foot of the bed. She pulled her feet underneath her, sitting with her legs crossed.

"Do you mean Finn?" she asked with a glance back over her shoulder. The boy in question could no longer be seen though. "What were you guys talking about?"

Bellamy shook his head. "It's not important."

"Ha," Raven said with a knowing smirk. "You were talking about Clarke."

"What makes you think that?"

She shrugged. "Any other topic and you'd have just told me."

And he realized it was true. He hadn't realized just how intuitive Raven was but starting to understand that there was very little that escaped her quick observation.

"He's just stirring shit up," Bellamy said. "That's all."

"Yeah, well," she said, leaning back on her hands. "He's not used to having competition."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

Raven laughed. "Deny it all you want."

"Deny what?"

"The thing that's going on between you and Clarke," she said.

Bellamy reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "There's nothing going on between me and Clarke."

"Maybe nothing official," Raven conceded. "But you have to admit that things have changed since the days of the drop ship."

"Of course they have," he said. "There's a baby involved now."

Raven leaned forward and crossed her arms. "Look," she said softly, gaining his eye contact. Soft was unusual for Raven. "I know from experience that _you_ can nail a girl and not have issues with feelings. And if it had been any other girl in here, I think you'd do the right thing by her and the kid. But obligation isn't what has you looking at her like you do. You don't look at anyone else like that."

"Like what?"

"Like she fucking hung the moon or something. I don't know. I don't do poetry and shit."

Bellamy laughed. He liked Raven a lot. She was feisty and smart and didn't often mince words. He was infinitely glad that their one tumble hadn't affected their ability to be friends.

"And anyway, I didn't come over here to gossip about your love life," Raven said, her eyes darting around for a moment before she continued. "I stumbled on a problem with the fan and I wanted to run my solution by you."

Bellamy frowned and nodded for her to continue.

"So I can't strip the wires to reroute the circuit unless I power down the fan," she said. "You know, unless you like your mechanics extra crispy."

"I prefer them alive and functional," Bellamy replied. "You said there's a solution though?"

She nodded. "I'm pretty sure the damn thing doesn't run through the night. Nobody showers in the dark so there's no need for the exhaust to be on. If the fan cuts off after lights out then I should be able to use that downtime to rewire the stupid thing. But that means I'll need to check it tonight and see."

Bellamy pursed his lips and thought about this for a moment. "Yeah, okay. Who are you gonna take with you? And I swear to God you better not say Murphy." He was still getting over the fact that Murphy had managed to steal his leverage right out from under him.

Raven shrugged. "Who do you want me to take then?"

Bellamy thought about it for a moment. "Can you take what's-his-name? James? What's the situation with him?"

"Are you asking if I'm having baby-daddy drama?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. "Because I'm so staying away from that."

"What are you talking about?"

Raven sighed and shook her head, counting off on her fingers as she spoke. "James was involved with Kayla before the Mountain. Now she's having a baby with Lively, who had been sleeping with Dennis who is having a baby with fucking Vincent."

Bellamy just blinked.

"I know, its goddam ridiculous. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Now they aren't ripping each other's heads off yet but I just backed the hell out of the whole thing. I don't need the headache," she said. "Me and the kid'll be fine by ourselves anyway."

Bellamy frowned. "You won't be by yourself, Raven."

She laughed. "Don't you go pulling a Finn and thinking you have to take care of everyone."

"That's not what I'm saying," he replied. "Look, none of us are doing this alone. Everyone who gets out of here is going to have to rely on each other, just like before. Kids being involved is only going to compound that."

"You mean like 'It takes a village to raise a child' or whatever?" Raven asked.

He shrugged. "There's some truth behind that. Makes sense."

Raven mulled this over for a moment before she yawned. "I hate being so damn tired all the time," she grumbled. "Okay, so James is out. Who's going with me?"

He told her to ask Miller and she nodded before mentioning something about a nap and leaving to go find her bed.

Bellamy had just picked up his book and started again when he heard a throat being cleared in an attempt to get his attention. "I'm reading, Princess. Or at least trying to. What do you need?" he asked without taking his eyes from the page.

"Can I have your attention for two seconds, please?"

He could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth because for whatever reason, every time she took that annoyed tone with him it just made him want to grin. It was the one she'd basically reserved for him and he couldn't help the fact that it made his heart beat a little faster every time he heard it.

He looked up to see her standing with her arms crossed and her hip cocked. Something had her worked up and he felt that smile dissolve, knowing that it was something beyond his book-reading. "What's wrong?"

"I just had a really weird conversation with Finn," she said and he noticed the pink blush that had started to creep up her neck.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Bellamy grumbled. "What the hell is it with him now?"

"He wants to know if I'm happy," Clarke said, throwing her arms out wide. "Does he have no idea what's going on here?"

Bellamy shook his head but he wasn't able to say anything before she continued.

"And he looked so darn sad about it but he said all he wants is for me to be happy," she said. Then her eyes darted to the side a little in a way that made Bellamy's jaw clench. "And he hugged me."

"He hugged you?"

"I didn't know what to do. I mean, he's still my friend. I care about him. A lot. He might have hurt me but that doesn't mean I want to see him like this. I mean, I'm not going to torture the guy over it. That's not me," she said. "So I hugged him back. Told him that we would be okay. I told him that _he'd _be okay."

"And?"

She shrugged. "He said 'Thanks, Princess' and then just left me standing there."

Bellamy didn't quite know what to say to that.

"Do you have any idea what that's all about?"

He did. Finn was making his break. He was tying up his loose ends and making sure that the people he loved were going to be taken care of. Bellamy wouldn't have been surprised to find out that Raven had gotten a similar conversation. What he wasn't sure of was whether this meant Finn was preparing to join them and wanted a clean slate or if it meant he had decided to stay and was making his peace.

"He loves you," Bellamy said softly. Suddenly her eyes were too intense for him and he found himself looking away, looking anywhere that wasn't at her.

She sank down on the bed next to him, leaving very little space between them. "I know."

They were quiet for a while. She seemed to be thinking hard about something and Bellamy couldn't find it in him to think about anything. He felt like his mind was a whirlwind, thoughts overlapping and bumping into one another rather than following their usual logical order. It was frustrating but it kept him busy while he waited for her to say something.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

His brow furrowed. "For what?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Finn…makes this all a little complicated," she said.

"Finn doesn't have anything to do with our…whatever this is," he said.

"Ugh," she said and she laid back on the bed. "It's just…I just spent the whole afternoon trying to mediate between, I don't know, maybe ten different people because they had relationships before they came to the Mountain and they didn't get paired up with the right people. All that freaking drama has me overthinking it all, I'm sure."

"You mean the James-Kayla-Lively-Dennis-Vincent clusterfuck?" he asked and was rewarded with her smile.

"You know about that?" she asked but before he could answer, she did it for him. "Raven."

"Raven."

Clarke sighed. "We're really lucky, you know?"

He laughed. "How do you figure?"

"Well we're not in relationships," she said. "So it's not as complicated."

She was only half-right but he wasn't about to tell her that. It was true that they hadn't been in relationships. But he wasn't sure that made their situation any less complicated. He groaned and followed her example, completely abandoning his book and laying back across the bed with her. When he looked over at her and saw her sad expression, he thought maybe she'd been entirely wrong.

He took a deep breath and decided to just rip off the bandage and get the whole conversation over with. "You miss him," he said.

"Everything that has happened since we came down has happened so damn fast," she said. "We have to be fast to survive so everything else is fast, too. We live fast. We love fast. We die fast. It's crazy. But you know, we don't un-love fast. I don't think we're able to, as humans. So yeah. I miss him sometimes. Not romantically…just in general. I miss that boy who showed me glowing trees and gave me whiskey and pencils. Innocent Finn. I'll probably always miss _him_."

Bellamy thought he'd have felt jealous at this admission. He'd prepared himself for it. But he didn't. He felt…very much like she did, honestly. They'd all been guilty of something to have been sent to the ground but even so, there had been an innocence present in all of them that that the ground had managed to tear away. And besides, Clarke didn't sound like she was professing her ongoing feelings for Finn. She sounded like she was making her peace with him.

"I killed him," she said softly. "Innocent Finn. I killed him when I gave him my heart."

"That's bullshit."

"It's true. He's been somebody else ever since."

Bellamy reached over and grabbed her hand. "Don't take this on yourself. Finn is responsible for Finn. It's as simple as that."

He was relieved to feel her fingers tangle with his. He looked over to see Clarke with her eyes closed, a tear dripping down the side of her cheek, toward her ear. He wanted to reach over and wipe it away but he wasn't sure she wanted to see her cry about this. So he closed his eyes and turned his head back toward the ceiling. She squeezed his hand once and he knew it was enough.

* * *

><p>"<em>Peel the scars from off my back. I don't need them anymore."<em>

_Radical Face "Welcome Home, Son"_

* * *

><p>CAUTION. SPOILERS AHEAD.<p>

A/N: I haven't been doing author's notes for this story because I really didn't want to break up the continuity of the storytelling. But after last night's midseason finale, I feel like I need it. I'd written an entirely different chapter, or started to, and then the finale happened and so this chapter happened.

Those of you who have corresponded with me a little have an idea of where I sit with Finn. Before "Spacewalker" I didn't like Finn much. And I had a feeling that we would see the end of his life. But this one episode made me understand his character in a way I hadn't before. We were given the flashbacks that filled in his character gaps for me. He was a boy who loved too hard and who would do whatever needed to be done to protect those that he loved. That's who Finn was, despite whatever else went on. And in the moments leading up to his death I found that loved him. Not with Clarke, but just in general. So I was totally gutted by the ending. It was the most beautiful scene I've seen on television maybe ever. I've never cried like that before. I still feel like crying and I probably will.

So this was my dedication to the boy we lost. My dedication to all the things that were good in Finn. This is my dedication to his release from this life and from the guilt and pain he caused. Goodness knows the survivors of this will have plenty of repercussions from this. But for this moment…I needed to say goodbye to him.

That doesn't mean he's leaving the story necessarily. This doesn't in any way affect the events of the story. I'd planned on having this scene eventually. But after last night…it needed to be now.

As parting words, I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to review. Words will never accurately describe how much it means to me. Feel free to PM me with any additional feelings and such. I could use a shoulder or two to cry on.

Luca


	15. Chapter 15

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Fifteen

"Between"

* * *

><p>Clarke awoke from sleep in slow motion, her mind creeping from dreaming to awake at a leisurely crawl. It was nice for a change. Their afternoon had been largely uneventful. Dinner as well. Plans were made to make sure Raven and Miller had a solid fifteen or twenty minutes to check out the fan after dark and report their findings in the morning. So when the lights went down, she and Bellamy had gone to bed and tried to rest, showing the camera as much normalcy as possible. Miraculously, they'd actually fallen asleep.<p>

Since the moment her feet had touched the ground, Clarke hadn't slept well. Sleeping was dangerous on the ground. Every time they closed their eyes, they were vulnerable. Vulnerable to wild animals, to Grounders, to one another. She hadn't trusted the others in their group at first and in order to sleep she could only do it for a few minutes at a time, usually clutching a knife as she did. So having the ability to sleep for several hours without fear of death and danger was a new feeling for Clarke, a feeling that she directly connected to Bellamy.

Bellamy…pressed against her back, his arm wrapped around her protectively, his warm breath rustling her hair and tickling the back of her neck.

She never usually got to see him sleeping. Somehow he always managed to let her fall asleep first and was awake before her in the mornings. She wondered for a moment if he would notice it if she rolled toward him.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to chance it and she turned in his arms, doing her best not to pull too far away in case the loss of body heat would be the thing to wake him.

Bellamy's arm tightened around her back as she settled. Other than taking one deeper breath than the others, it seemed as if her movement hadn't woken him.

Clarke smiled at her victory and took the time to really look at him.

She'd always known he was attractive but she had also always been too busy for that to count for anything. A lot of the guys in their camp were good looking but it didn't matter when they were running for their lives or scavenging enough food to survive. It didn't matter when they were all covered in blood and mud and struggling to put one foot in front of the other.

And while they were by no means safe here in the Mountain, it didn't seem like they were in immediate danger either. So for this moment, Clarke allowed herself to indulge in noticing.

She was a little annoyed by how much she liked his freckles. She couldn't always see them for the grit and grime that was usually ever-present. But he was clean now and she had the most ridiculous urge to run her fingers over his cheeks, mapping the way they were scattered there and across the bridge of his nose. Then there was that little scar along his upper lip. She wondered where that had come from. None of them were stranger to scars at this point but she remembered that he'd had this particular scar before they'd ever stepped out of the drop ship. He'd gotten it on the Ark.

Clarke hadn't even felt her hand move but there it was before her suddenly, her thumb hovering over that scar. She wanted to smooth it, just once, pretend to wipe it away and along with it the memory of what had caused it, which couldn't be a happy one. It was ridiculous and inappropriate and far more sentimental than she usually felt toward Bellamy.

Gently, she laid her hand against his cheek and gave in to the urge. The now-calloused pad of her thumb ghosted across his scar, feeling the softness and warmth of his lip and she held her breath. She remembered what his kisses felt like, the ones from that first night in the white room. They hadn't kissed each other on the mouth since then. She wondered if he ever thought about that. If they'd done it on purpose to keep from being too intimate. She couldn't remember intentionally_ not_ kissing him. But then, a lot of those white room memories were hazy, distorted and choppy now that the drugs were out of her system. But she did remember the feel of those lips against hers and it had been unlike anything else she'd ever felt before.

She had no idea how long he'd been watching her, how long she'd been focused on his mouth. But her eyes happened to flicker up and she froze as his dark brown gaze followed her movements.

She was breathless for a moment and entirely unsure of how to proceed, embarrassed for having been caught. "Uh," she said, starting to withdraw her hand. "Sorry."

He caught her hand before she could entirely drop it. "What were you doing?" he asked. He didn't sound angry, just curious.

Clarke swallowed. "It was nothing," she said, her heart hammering against her ribcage. "It was dumb."

Bellamy shook his head a little. "Tell me."

"Are you serious?" she asked, feeling her cheeks warm. It was dark, had been for a while now. He probably couldn't see her blush but she felt as if it could light up the room.

He nodded.

Slowly, she pulled her hand from his and placed it back on his cheek. "I was touching your scar," she said, letting her thumb skim across it again. "And wondering how you got it."

His brow furrowed but he didn't say anything, just watched her eyes as her thumb traced the corner of his mouth. With a sigh, she pulled her hand to her chest and waited.

After a moment he closed his eyes and rolled onto his back. Clarke felt the immediate loss of connect as his arm left her. He pulled his other arm out from under her pillow and brought both hands up to rub his face.

She was afraid that she'd upset him, that she'd crossed a line, and she couldn't help the feelings of disappointment that were building within her, spiraling out like little flames and filling her with a shameful heat.

Clarke turned her face toward her pillow, hiding from his reaction while she processed her own thoughts.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw as Bellamy looked over and took in her expression. His face softened in a way Clarke was unfamiliar with.

"Hey," he said, opening his arms a bit. "Come here. I'm not mad."

Uncertainly, she did as he asked and laid her head against her chest, both hating and loving how relieved she felt as he wrapped his arms around her. She could hear his heartbeat, pounding away steadily, each beat helping to calm her nerves a little.

"I brought up bad things, didn't I?" she asked. She couldn't see his face well from this vantage, not without turning to look up at him.

He sighed and tightened his arms a little. "Nah. Just stuff I hadn't thought about in a long time."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she said. "I wasn't trying to pry."

He was quiet for a while and she wondered for a minute if he might not just take her advice. But eventually he took a deep breath, one that she could feel with most of her body pressed against his. "I got into a fight."

"Who, you?" she asked quietly, thick with sarcasm. "How out of character."

She was rewarded with a small chuckle and was glad he couldn't see how she smiled into his chest.

"Well I didn't always have the self-control that I have now."

"Shocking."

"Are you gonna let me tell my story or what?" he asked in a teasing tone.

She nodded against his chest and he continued.

"I was…I don't know, ten maybe? Eleven? I don't remember, young. But old enough to finally understand what the older boys had been picking at me about for years," he said. "Well, stuff they'd been saying about my mom but it might as well have been about me."

Clarke remembered how close he was to his sister. She couldn't imagine how much closer he must have been with his mother.

"Anyway," he said with a long sigh. "Suffice to say it was bad. Stuff about her being a prostitute or something. I don't know. But I tried to stand up to them about it one day after school and it didn't really work out like I meant it to."

"They busted your lip?" she asked. "But that shouldn't have left a scar."

He shrugged. "It does when you stitch it up by yourself with no mirror to look at."

Clarke leaned up on her elbow and stared at him with eyebrows raised. "You stitched your own lip up? At ten years old?"

He nodded.

"Why the hell did you do that?" she asked. "Why didn't you just come to Medical?"

Bellamy tugged at her to lay back down and she did.

"Back then I still wasn't always sure of which things could get me locked up and I was terrified of leaving Octavia without somebody to look after her," he answered. "I didn't want it reported so I got out my mom's sewing stuff and did the best that I could. Which was really stupid. But I was just a kid. What did I know?"

"I can't believe you did that. It could have gotten infected."

"I told you it was stupid, didn't I?" he said. "Besides, it's not like it's something _you_ haven't done."

Clarke licked her lips for a second, staring forward toward the wall. "What are you talking about?"

He laughed. "I'm talking about that gash you had on your arm after we put up the fence, the one you got sneaking out without a gun."

She swallowed hard. "How do you know I was the one who stitched it?" she asked. "I mean, I taught Octavia and Raven how to do sutures."

"I don't think so," he answered. "I saw your stitches. You're the only one who does them neatly."

Clarke hadn't realized he'd been paying that much attention. "Okay," she finally said. "You got me."

"Did you end up with a scar?"

She shrugged. "Yeah," she said, smiling into his shirt. "But that's what you get when you stitch yourself up with no mirror to look at."

She knew he was smirking without even being able to see his face.

They were quiet for a while. Clarke was really comfortable and wondered if she could talk him into sleeping like this occasionally.

"Sorry I woke you up," she said after a little while.

He shrugged and she could feel his fingers rubbing idle circles on her lower back. She wasn't sure he even realized he was doing it but she really liked it. It was awfully intimate though and she wondered where their lines were any more, or if they even still had lines. She was very unclear on where they stood right now and it brought so many questions to the forefront of her mind.

Clarke propped herself up on her elbow again, making eye contact with him. "Can I ask you something?"

Bellamy nodded, his fingers stilling against her shirt.

"We stopped kissing each other," she said before she could talk herself out of it.

"That's not a question," he said with an eyebrow raised.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Okay, why did we stop kissing?" she asked. "I mean, was it on purpose or did it just…I don't know, happen?"

His eyes closed and he swallowed hard, turning his face toward the bottom of the bunk that hung above them. Her question had apparently struck a nerve. "It was kinda intentional," he answered. "On my part anyway."

Clarke couldn't help the way her stomach clenched at the admission. She figured she must be a glutton for punishment because she then asked, "Why?"

Bellamy shrugged, still with eyes closed. "I don't know if it was the gas or what but kissing you was…really intoxicating. And I didn't want to lose what little control I had left."

"Oh," she said and couldn't think of a single additional thing to say. She completely understood. She had basically felt the same way. Those first kisses between them had been all fire and desperation. And while they had been the best kisses she'd ever experienced in her life, they'd also been hurried and frantic and had likely been caused by the chemicals running through their systems rather than desire for one another.

Bellamy finally opened his eyes and turned them to look at her, studying her expression as if he were waiting for her to yell at him or be angry.

But she wasn't angry. She was curious. Horribly and inappropriately curious. "I wonder…" she found herself saying out loud. And then she snapped her mouth shut because she couldn't finish that sentence.

"You wonder what?" he asked. But he must have had some kind of idea because there was a dark twinkling in his eyes that hadn't been there the moment before.

She didn't want to answer him but she knew that he might not let it go. "I wonder if that…intoxication…was just the gas."

She caught his gaze dip toward her lips for a moment and she knew then and there that he was wondering the same things she was.

"We could test it," he said and Clarke found herself horribly distracted by how close their faces were to one another.

"I thought we weren't going to mess with the free-will thing," she said softly, almost entirely unable to pull her gaze from his lips.

One corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk and her eyes met his in the dark. "I think you crossed that line first, Princess."

He was right. The night she'd helped him out, back in the white room. The memory of that moment flooded through her and she knew that her cheeks were flushed.

She swallowed hard as he adjusted, leaning up on his elbow as well. She looked up at him, the blood rushing in her ears, and tried to remind herself that this was just Bellamy, her partner and her friend. "It's just a test, right?" she said, almost a whisper in the quiet of the room.

Her heart caught in her throat as he brought his free hand up and cupped her cheek, pulling her forward. He leaned his forehead against hers. "It's whatever you think it is," he answered before pressing his lips to hers.

Gone was the desperation. Gone was the rush and the urgency of the kisses they'd shared in the white room. They were replaced with a tenderness she'd known he was capable of but had rarely been privy to, his thumb sliding across her cheek as she pressed closer to him. It was gentle and soft and she couldn't breathe.

It was over in a heartbeat, their foreheads still pressed together, eyes closed. Clarke could feel his hand trembling against her cheek and her own breath felt shaky and she struggled to find words.

He pulled back a little and her eyes opened to see him staring back at her, his expression almost sad. "So," he said softly, licking his lips as he spoke. "What do you think it is?"

"I think a good test requires repetition," she answered and reached up to tangle her fingers in his dark hair. Before he had an opportunity to respond she captured his lips and rendered him speechless.

This time was still sweet and tender but there was a building of heat behind it. When his tongue dipped out, teasing her, it was as if gunpowder had been thrown on those flames. She opened her mouth to him and was rewarded with his hand fisting her hair and his body pressing closer to hers. When she tentatively sucked his lower lip between hers, he groaned softly and it was suddenly as if her whole body was on fire. Memories of their actions from the white room rushed over her and she was instantly aware of the lines they were crossing. This was freewill. These intoxicating kisses were of their own choosing, not because of the drugs.

When they broke apart the second time, she could see the war raging behind his eyes. "So," he said, his voice low and gravely in a way that made Clarke want to kiss him all over again. "What do you think it is?"

She shook her head. She didn't know. She couldn't classify it or define it. She was trembling, his hand still in her hair and hers clutching tightly to the back of his neck.

"You aren't getting another one until you can tell me," he said.

"Who says I _want _another one?"

His brows dipped a little closer together. "_Do_ you want another one?"

She did. She really did and she wasn't sure where it had come from or what it meant and she wasn't sure she could even dissect it right now. Not with his lips so close to hers and his hands touching her and his body pressing against her body. She felt raw and nervous and frustrated that she'd let herself get to this point.

"I'm highly tempted to give you a politician answer right now," she said, willing herself to let go of his neck and finding that she couldn't seem to do it.

"You're not a politician, Clarke," he said. "You're a leader."

She nodded. "Then yes. Yes, I want another one."

"Then I guess we know."

She frowned. "Know what?"

"Whether the intoxication was because of the gas or if it was because of—"

"Me," she finished for him.

He smirked. "I was going to say 'us'."

"Us?"

"Yeah. You're not the only one who wants another one."

Clarke felt her throat go dry at his admission and she was starting to be afraid that he could hear just how loud her heart was beating. "So now what?"

He shrugged. "It's your call."

She frowned and dropped her hand from his neck to his shoulder. His hand seemed to loosen a little in her hair but it didn't move. "Why is it _my_ call?"

"Because you never seem to like it when I make decisions without you."

Clarke rolled her eyes and sighed which he seemed to think was funny. He let go of her hair and laid back on his pillow, pulling her with him. She laid her cheek against his chest as she had before, glad that she hadn't needed to ask him for this.

"Look," he said, his hand finding that place on her lower back again. "Wherever this goes…whatever this is or isn't…I'm trying not read too much into it. We're all going through a lot of shit right now. But I'm not going anywhere. So if you ever want to test things, you just let me know."

She could tell exactly what he was doing. He was giving her an out. He was trying to let her know that if she didn't _want_ him, really want _him_, that it was okay. And she didn't know what she wanted from him, in the long run. She couldn't see the future. She could only see a step or two ahead and she hadn't factored in things like personal feelings and physical desires. It was complicated and her heart was still a mess that she didn't want to look at.

So she sighed and wrapped her arm across his chest, wishing she had some kind of answer.

* * *

><p>"<em>And I felt faint of heart cause I was caught between the weight of everything I couldn't say."<em>

_Courrier "Between"_


	16. Chapter 16

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Sixteen

"Inside of You"

* * *

><p>Bellamy was awoken by the sound of someone clearing their throat outside the curtain of the bunk. The first thing he noticed upon opening his eyes was that the lights were up, signaling morning. Immediately on the heels of this realization was the fact that he was alone. He had no idea how Clarke had managed to slip out of bed without waking him but somehow she had. Her side of the bed was still warm so she couldn't have been gone for long.<p>

"Yeah?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I'm up."

"Hey boss. You want the report from last night?" he heard Miller say through the sheet.

Bellamy cleared his throat, rubbed his face one more time, and threw his legs off the bed. He wasn't sure when it was that some of his guys had started calling him boss. He was pretty sure it had been entirely sarcastic at first but somewhere along the way it had become genuine. They considered him the boss and here he was, sleeping on the job. He pushed the sheet out of the way. Miller was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What's the intel?" he asked. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, waiting.

Miller moved a little to his right to make sure he had his back to the camera and Bellamy found himself impressed. He wished he had more guys like Miller. "Raven was right. Fan went down about ten minutes after lights out. She said she should be able to get to work on the fan as soon and Monty and Jasper are done with the game pieces."

Bellamy nodded and stood, stretching his arms over his head. "Where _is_ Raven?" he asked, his eyes taking in the lack of a mechanic in the vicinity.

Miller jerked head toward the bathroom. "Getting sick. Clarke too. Monroe's taking care of them," he said putting up a hand to stop Bellamy, who had started in the direction of the bathroom. "I…wouldn't go in there if I were you," he said. "The girls were pretty damn vocal about not wanting any guys in there right now."

And Bellamy was torn. His first thought was fuck what the girls _wanted_, he was gonna check on Clarke. But he forced himself to stop and really think about it. He had a feeling Clarke had figured out that he was a sympathetic vomiter. He'd barely kept his lunch down the last time she'd been sick. This was likely her message to him that she'd be alright and that he shouldn't worry. It rubbed him the wrong way, letting her handle it. But he also knew that she could and _would_ handle it. She was tough and he trusted her.

"Hey man, I get it," Miller said, dropping his hand. "It's a pretty miserable feeling, knowing there's nothing we can do to help."

"Not necessarily."

Bellamy and Miller both turned to see Monty advancing on them from the direction of the mess hall. "What are you talking about?" Bellamy asked with a frown.

"Breakfast is here. They have tea. Peppermint and ginger. Both are good for nausea," Monty answered, stopping to complete their triangle. "Penelope says the ginger is working for her."

Bellamy inclined his head toward the mess hall and the three of them walked together. He tried not to hear the sounds echoing from the bathroom as they passed, hoping that they weren't coming from Clarke and doing his best to respect her request.

At the food window, Monty pointed out which teas were which and also recommended a few different things to eat that had seemed to work for Penelope. Toast, crackers, oatmeal. Miller pointed over Bellamy's shoulder to the fresh fruit, which he said Monroe usually preferred. Bellamy loaded up a tray with their suggestions and moved it to a nearby table before making a tray for himself.

He took a seat facing the doorway and tried to focus on eating but he found it hard as the memories of the previous night keep rushing to the forefront of his mind.

She had kissed him. Because she wanted to. Not because of aphrodisiac gas. Out of free will.

He could have kept kissing her all night long without blinking an eye. He'd have happily done more than just that but he wasn't sure where she stood. And it was like he'd told Finn before. He never entered into physical relationships without making sure that all parties involved knew where the emotional lines were drawn. In this case, he knew he'd erased all of_ his_ lines. He had no more lines where it came to Clarke. He wasn't really sure when it had happened but he had let down all the barriers he usually kept firmly in place.

But he knew she wasn't ready for all of that. She'd been burned, and badly, not that long ago. On top of that, they had a mission to keep in mind. They had to get out of this place. Every day they stayed put them one step closer to disaster. It wasn't the right time to be getting distracted and he knew it. But he also knew that their situation was going to come to a head eventually. He just hoped she'd gotten herself straight before that time came.

He noticed when Clarke entered the room because she just paused for a moment, taking in the rest of the area. He knew she wasn't necessarily looking for him, rather just checking on everyone, but when her eyes finally did find him, she gave him a little half smile and he could feel himself returning it without even thinking about it. He nodded his head toward the open seat across from him and she quirked her eyebrow but followed his instruction, moving toward the table he'd chosen.

"You okay?" he asked even though he knew what the answer would be.

She shrugged. "As well as can be expected," she said, taking a seat. "What's all this?"

"Suggestions," he answered. "Stuff Monty and Miller said might help. You know…with the—"

"Symptoms," Clarke finished quickly, her eyes leaving his and darting around the tray.

"Not symptoms," Bellamy said, feeling his tone tightening a little more than he'd meant. She heard the feeling in his voice and her eyes popped up quickly. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Baby. Not symptoms."

Clarke swallowed hard and nodded but she didn't say anything. He understood why she was still having a hard time saying the words so he left her alone about it. But now she knew where he stood at least.

They went about eating their breakfasts in silence. It was a little heavier than what was comfortable but they managed anyway.

Once he'd mostly finished eating, he changed the subject to something he was sure she would be able to talk about. "You talk to Raven yet?"

Clarke nodded, taking a sip of the tea in her hands. "Yeah, we're good. Jasper said he and Monty should be done with their part by lunch so we'll just have to wait it out until dark."

He nodded appreciatively.

"And," Clarke continued. "I might have volunteered us for the next shift."

"Shift?" Bellamy asked, his brow furrowing.

She nodded. "Yeah. I don't want the cameras seeing Raven going to the bathroom with some guy every evening after dark. It'll look suspicious. So you and I are going to take the next shift."

"You know how to strip wires?" he asked, incredulously.

Clarke frowned and placed her cup down before crossing her arms. "As a matter of fact, I do. Me and Jasper were the ones to help Raven rewire the drop ship's ignition. And when we were done with all the puking this morning, she and Monroe managed to get me up high enough to see which wires she needs stripped."

Bellamy just shook his head and looked back down at the breakfast in front of him.

"What?" Clarke asked defensively. "What is it?"

He smirked. "Just _you_, Princess," he answered. "Puking one minute and planning our escape the next. I don't know how you do it."

He looked up to catch Clarke blushing a little but that same defensive expression was still etched into her features. "I don't really have a choice," she answered, her shoulders sagging a little. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Bellamy shook his head again, half-intending to profess his very real admiration for her when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

The blank space of wall over the top of the meal windows suddenly blinked black for a moment before warming up to show an image of the woman doctor from the monitor in the white room. This space on the wall was a monitor, a much larger one than before, and the doctor was addressing the room at large.

"Hello, everyone," the woman began. "Since nearly all of you are assembled here this morning I thought I would take the time to introduce myself properly. My name is Dr. Tsing and I will be the one monitoring your pregnancies as we go forward."

Bellamy felt his hands clench into fists and he glanced across the table to see that Clarke had gone very pale.

"Girls, you have all been pregnant for around seven days. With the accelerated pregnancies, that puts you at about four weeks. You might be starting to have pregnancy related nausea, thus the tea at breakfast. It will be available at all meal times going forward. You may also be experiencing aching or swelling of the breasts, increased fatigue, emotional swings, and frequent urination."

"You know, if she hadn't told us this shit I might not have noticed," Bellamy heard Raven say from behind him as she took a seat in the neighboring chair.

Dr. Tsing continued. "Tomorrow we will start prenatal testing. It's a little early, but this is our first large-scale trial of the serum and I want progress monitored closely. We'll be checking your weight and blood-pressure, urine testing for protein and sugar, and a blood test for genetic abnormalities. The first sonograms will be performed and while we won't hear a heartbeat yet, we should be able to magnify the image enough to see the implantation and check the positioning of the placenta."

Bellamy was sure everything the doctor was saying made sense to Clarke but he felt like the woman was speaking another language. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so nervous but he felt like his heart was beating out of his chest.

"For now," Dr. Tsing said. "We have enabled the com unit next to the maintenance door. If you experience any severe cramping, bleeding, or fever, please alert someone right away. Otherwise, I look forward to meeting each of you individually tomorrow morning after breakfast."

As it had back in the white room, the screen went to black before fading to white again. Bellamy released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and turned back toward the table.

Clarke was pale and frozen, still staring at the screen where the doctor had been speaking only a moment before. As Bellamy watched, she took a deep breath, constructing the brave face she knew everyone else would need to see right now. Her eyes still looked a little off but Bellamy was pretty sure he'd be the only one who noticed that. Otherwise she had wiped every trace of fear from her face, turning back toward her breakfast and taking up her cup of tea again.

"So this is probably a good thing," Raven stated, grabbing a spare piece of toast from Clarke's plate and nibbling on it.

"How?" Bellamy asked. He propped his elbows on the table and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

Raven smirked. "Because they're going to have to take us out of here to do those tests," she answered. "And when they do, I'll be able to track the exhaust vent and get an idea of where our air duct is going to take us."

And once again, Bellamy found himself in complete awe of the two girls he was sitting with. They were incredibly determined and weren't about to let something like prenatal testing get in the way of them all getting out of here.

Clarke stood abruptly, her hand over her mouth and Bellamy had a good idea what that meant. She motioned for him to follow her and she turned quickly to jog toward the bathroom.

Bellamy frowned and looked at Raven for help. She just laughed at him and pulled Clarke's tray over toward her. "Sorry. I'm done holding her hair back this morning. Your turn there, Pops."

He leveled a glare at her before swallowing hard and making himself put one foot in front of the other as he followed her to the bathroom.

"Took you long enough," Clarke said as he hesitantly entered the bathroom. She was outside of the range of the camera, beckoning him over with an annoyed expression.

"You're not sick again?" he asked, confused as he followed her instructions.

She shook her head and grabbed him by the hand, leading him into one of the shower stalls. She pulled the curtain shut behind him and then turned the shower on, filling the room with the sound of falling water.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Clarke peeked out of the curtain for a moment. When she pulled her head back in, she sighed and leaned back against the wall of the shower stall. They had another curtain between them and the stream of the shower but he knew it was only a matter of time before they both started feeling damp from the steam.

"I have a really bad feeling," Clarke said finally, her voice just above a whisper. "And I don't want to be overheard. By anyone."

Bellamy felt his jaw clench. When Clarke had bad feelings, they were usually for a good reason. But their voices were still echoing in the tiled chamber, despite the shower running. "Come here," he said, opening his arms to her. She raised an eyebrow in question but moved anyway. He wrapped his arms around her loosely, bringing his mouth close to her ear.

"Just trying to be quiet," he whispered by way of explanation. He tried and failed to ignore the way she shivered when his lip accidently brushed the shell of her ear.

Clarke cleared her throat quietly and gripped the back of his shirt a little more tightly. "Good idea," she said softly.

"Tell me what's got you worried," he said.

Clarke swallowed hard and he could feel it because her throat was pressed against his collar bone. "Tomorrow, when they do the testing, they're going to split us up. They're going to take us one at a time. They wouldn't chance moving us all at once."

Bellamy hadn't thought about that and he felt himself tense at the thought of Clarke disappearing behind a closed door, in the hands of the Mountain people and outside of his ability to help her.

"I'm worried that they're going to ask questions when they've got us alone," she continued. "I mean, I'm not worried about the people who are _in_ on the plan."

"They won't talk," Bellamy finished for her. "But the ones who _don't_ know might let something slip without knowing it's important."

Clarke relaxed into him a little. "Exactly," she said. "So what the hell do we do about that?"

Bellamy shook his head. "Is there any way we can get out of here tonight?"

"Not a chance," Clarke answered. "We still have to prep supplies, move the fan, map the air duct. No way we can do all of that tonight without drawing attention."

Bellamy's fingers itched to hold her tighter but he resisted the urge. "Why didn't you want our people overhearing this?" he asked.

Clarke sighed, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "Because they're already scared. And I'm pretty sure they follow us because they think we're not."

"Not what? Scared?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'm pretty sure they think we're fearless."

"Are we?"

Clarke peeked up at him for a moment. "I'm not," she answered. "But if pretending to be is what gets us all the hell out of here, I can do that. Can you?"

He nodded.

"Good," she said. "Because I can't do this without you."

Bellamy frowned hard, hating having to ask but letting his own curiosity get the better of him. "Are you talking about the escaping part? Or the baby part?"

Clarke froze. She didn't even feel like she was breathing.

"Sorry," he said, propping his chin on her shoulder. "You don't have to answer that. That's a problem for another time."'

She shook her head. "It's not that. I just…every time I really start to think, I mean _really_ think, about the…pregnancy…I feel like I've been drenched in ice water or something."

"It's a lot to think about."

"Well, yeah," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. "But it's_ you_. I should be able to talk to you about this."

"Because I'm the father?"

She leaned back again, far enough to see his eyes. "Because you're my partner."

"And that makes me better at listening?"

Clarke smirked. "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

He shook his head. "If you're giving me a compliment, I've gotta believe it's back-handed somehow."

She laughed softly and he felt his heart swell, knowing he'd pulled her out of her fear, even if just for a moment. She pressed her forehead against his chest and he adjusted again, his arms a little looser now, in case she didn't want them.

Clarke sighed, her hands dropping down to rest on his hips lightly. "What are we going to do?"

He didn't know. He squeezed her tightly once and then released her to take a tiny step back in the small space. She crossed her arms over her stomach, her face unreadable.

What had been an impossible situation before how now become so much worse.

"What are you doing?" Clarke asked, her voice raising an octave, as he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the small ledge behind him.

"I need to think," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward where the shower was starting to steam up the room. "And I'm already here so…"

"Oh," she said simply. He'd expected her to leave but she just turned around instead.

He shrugged and finished getting undressed behind her back. He slipped behind the curtain and into the stream of hot water with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back away from his face as the water rained down on him. As much as he hated it here, he had to admit that he would really miss showers.

It was hard for him not to be aware of Clarke on the other side of the curtain. "You just gonna stand there, Princess?" he asked and smirked even though he knew she couldn't see him. "Or are you gonna join me?"

"Oh you wish," she said with a laugh, which really was his desired reaction. He wasn't sure what he'd done if she had actually come through the curtain. "But no. I'm going to go check on Monty and Jasper."

Bellamy could hear her hesitate.

"We're gonna figure this out, too," he said finally, all traces of humor leaving him. "Just like we figure out everything else."

"Hello high water?"

And he felt himself smile despite the dread flooding through his veins. "Exactly."

* * *

><p>"<em>I know you're still there because you're scared that you'll lose everything."<em>

_Albert Hammond, Jr. "Scared"_


	17. Chapter 17

"Up in Flames"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Seventeen

"With the Lights Out"

* * *

><p>"So how long do you want to wait?" Bellamy asked, turning the sharpened game pieces over in his hands.<p>

Clarke leaned back against the wall in their bunk, tapping her fingers on her upraised knees. "I don't know. I just don't want to rush in there right away. Raven said ten minutes until the fan turns off. We should probably wait longer than that though."

Bellamy nodded and continued to flip the little wooden discs between his fingers, letting them click together in the relative quiet. Clarke watched him for a minute before snatching the pieces out of his hands.

"_Hey_," he exclaimed at the theft.

"You're driving me nuts," Clarke said, closing her fist around the pieces.

Bellamy crossed his arms. "Oh, like you don't have nervous twitches."

Clarke frowned. "Do I?"

Bellamy laughed and relaxed a little. "Are you kidding me?"

She gestured for him to go on.

"Well, there's the tapping," he said with a gesture to where the fingers of her free hand were currently thumping against her knee. "And the thing where you get really defensive."

"I don't…" Clarke started but trailed off as she realized she was about to prove his point. "Yeah, well. _You_ do that tongue thing."

Bellamy's brow furrowed. "What tongue thing?"

She grinned, feeling her mood lighten significantly at the fact that he didn't do it consciously. "You know. Whenever you get frustrated or worked up about something, you lick your lips."

"No I don't," he responded, his shoulders tensing up. And then he licked his lips and opened his mouth to continue but couldn't because Clarke was biting her own lips to keep from laughing.

"You're like a little lizard," she said, her face hurting with the effort it was taking not to laugh. She reached over and poked his thigh. "You're a lizard boy."

He pursed his lips like he was angry but his eyes were twinkling with merriment. The laughter won out and the two of them stopped fighting it, giving themselves a moment to let go of some of the anxiety that had plagued them in the last couple of weeks. It felt really good. As the laughter petered off, Clarke took a moment to memorize those dimples in his cheeks, the ones that only showed when he was truly smiling. She was finally starting to come to terms with the fact that she genuinely found him attractive. The realization had been horribly disconcerting at first, considering the fact that she knew how he usually was with girls. But the more time she spent with him, the less the attraction bothered her.

While she might have been ready to be honest with herself about her attraction to her partner, she wasn't quite ready for him to know the extent of it. So she pulled her eyes away from his and sighed contentedly, letting her head rest against the wall again.

"So is that your latest attempt at a nickname?" Bellamy asked, following suit and leaning his head back against the wall.

"You _wish_ you had a cool nickname like that," Clarke grumbled.

He chuckled and bumped his shoulder against hers. He didn't say anything but he didn't really have to.

They sat this way, in contented silence, until Clarke decided it was probably time to get to work. She went first, holding one hand over her mouth and one against her stomach. Anyone looking would think she was about to be sick, a move she'd already pulled once but figured would probably still work, considering the circumstances.

Bellamy joined her a few minutes later under the guise of coming to check on her.

Standing under the vent, he asked, "How do you want to do this?"

Clarke shrugged. "Well, when Raven loosened the screws, she sat on Murphy's shoulders. You think you could manage that?"

Bellamy nodded and knelt with his hand against the wall. Clarke awkwardly climbed onto his shoulders, acutely aware that she now had his head nestled between her thighs. She bit down on her lip as a wave of heat washed over her and she had to forcibly remind herself that they were here for a mission. His hands gripped her thighs tightly as he stood, making sure she didn't fall. Clarke closed her eyes and inhaled slowly through her nose, steadying herself with her fingers on the wall before her.

Once she'd forced herself to focus, she managed to get the screws to come loose with only her fingers. Raven had left them this way on purpose. Clarke pulled off the grate and handed it down to Bellamy who had to take one hand off her leg in order to place it on the ground. When his hand returned, it was with a gentle caress of his thumb along the underside of her thigh and it was all she could do not to squeeze his head between her legs. She bit her lip again, almost hard enough to draw blood, and went to work on the wires.

It was slow work. Besides the fact that it was hard to see in the dull illumination from the emergency lights, the game pieces were only just sharp enough to cut through the plastic on the wires. The fifteen minutes she'd allowed for this had come and gone probably twice by now but she'd done what she could, stripping most of what Raven had asked for. She'd have Raven rotate back through tomorrow night. If there was anything else she needed to have stripped, she'd just have to do it herself.

"You about done?" Bellamy asked. Clarke could feel him shaking beneath her weight. He hadn't complained once though, for which Clarke was thankful.

"I think so," she answered, tucking the game pieces just inside the frame for Raven to use later. "Can you hand me the cover?"

He nodded, which did nothing to quell the flames that were licking at her insides. He squatted down to grab the grate and then paused.

"Shit," he said under his breath.

"What?" Clarke asked. She was fighting the urge to tangle her fingers in his hair, opting for keeping them splayed against the wall instead.

He heaved a sigh and then lowered himself to his knees. "I can't get back up. I need a minute."

Clarke used the wall to steady herself as she reluctantly got off of his shoulders. He flashed her an annoyed grimace but she knew he wasn't mad at her but rather at himself. She was sure he was berating himself for not being able to hold her up there longer. But they had no idea how long they'd been in comas before they'd woken up, coupled with no opportunity to exercise their muscles…it was no wonder he was tired. She wasn't exactly light and he'd been holding her up for probably half an hour. It was a wonder he hadn't needed to put her down sooner.

"You guys need a hand?"

Clarke whipped her head around to see Murphy leaning against the wall, just outside the camera range, watching them with a smug look on his face.

Clarke felt instantly defensive. She wanted to tell him to get lost and that no, they did not need his help. She didn't really care that Raven had seemed to forgive him for the shooting thing, or that Bellamy trusted him enough to send him to care for Harper. Clarke could only see him as a cold-blooded killer, a person dark enough to chase a young girl off a cliff in search of vengeance. She didn't trust him or like him or want anything to do with him.

And apparently none of that mattered.

"Yeah," Bellamy answered before she could get a word out. "Would you lift Clarke up to put the grate back?"

"Sure," Murphy answered, pushing away from the wall and walking toward them.

Clarke clenched her jaw and glared at Bellamy but he didn't see her. She was pretty sure he was avoiding her eyes on purpose.

"How do you wanna do this, Princess?" Murphy asked, his smirk taunting her and making his statement into something dirty.

"Just boost me up, okay?" she answered curtly. "I'll stand on your hands."

"Oh I get it," he said, squatting down and lacing his fingers together. "Bellamy's is the only head you want between your legs."

Clarke was determined not to respond to the taunt for two reasons. The first was that she didn't want to spur him on and give him the reaction that he was hoping for. The second was that his comment had actually hit a little too close to home. Because teasing or not, he'd come darn close to the truth with that one and it made her stomach drop out when she thought about it too hard.

She didn't dare look at Bellamy as she grabbed the grate and stepped into Murphy's hands. He lifted her up and she made quick work of reattaching the front of the fan. As much as she wanted to hate him, Murphy was actually being helpful. When she wobbled, he widened his stance and centered himself under her so she wouldn't fall.

"Done," she finally said and he lowered her down.

"We've been in here way too long," Bellamy said as she turned around. "Suspiciously long."

Clarke sighed and put one hand to her forehead, the other propping itself on her hip. It was true. They'd probably been in here for more than half an hour by now.

"I could always say I caught you guys having sex in the shower," Murphy offered with a smirk. "I mean, if anyone asks anyway."

Clarke groaned and whirled around to face him. "Was there some actual reason you came in here?"

Murphy straightened up a little, the relaxed stance he'd had before melting away under the force of her question. "Yeah, actually," he answered, his brow pinching a little in the middle. "I need you to come check on Harper."

"What's wrong with Harper?" Bellamy asked over Clarke's shoulder. He was standing close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"I don't know," Murphy groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "It's chick stuff. A…pregnancy…thing."

"Okay, fine," Clarke said, motioning for Murphy to walk with her. "Let's go see her. Because I sure as hell won't get anything useful out of _you_."

Murphy frowned at her but followed. Clarke glanced back at Bellamy and by some unspoken communication, she just knew he would meet her back at the bunk. Just before she and Murphy rounded the corner, she thought she saw Bellamy wink at her but she wasn't sure.

Clarke knew where Harper's bed was but she let Murphy go ahead of her and lead the way anyway. As they approached the back of the room, Clarke could see that Harper was laying on her side, curled into a ball and fast asleep.

Murphy paused at the side of the bed, indecision written clearly on his face. Clarke was about to tell him not to worry about it and that she would talk to Harper in the morning, when he sank down on the edge of the bed and shook Harper's shoulder.

"Hmm?" Harper said, frowning in her sleep.

"Harper, wake up," Murphy said, his voice soft in the quiet of the room. Clarke had only heard him like that once, back when everyone had been sick at the drop ship. "Clarke's here to check you out."

Harper pushed herself up on her elbow and used her other hand to rub her face. "What? Damn it Murphy," she grumbled. "I didn't mean for you to go and wake her up. It's not that big of a deal."

"I didn't _have_ to wake her up," Murphy answered, his defenses going back up. "She and Bellamy were still up. And busy too, I might add."

Harper groaned and sat all the way up, grimacing a little as she did. She finally turned her eyes to Clarke with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, Clarke. I didn't know who else to ask."

Clarke shook her head and took another step forward. "It's no problem. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Harper turned to glare at Murphy until he seemed to understand what she was saying with that look.

"Fine," he said, holding his hands up. "I'm going, alright? If this is how you fucking thank me for helping, I'll remember not to bother next time."

The girls watched as Murphy stormed off, disappearing into the darkness. Clarke realized she had no idea where he'd been sleeping and decided that she would figure that out in the morning. While he wasn't necessarily an enemy right now, she wanted to keep tabs on him. The last time she had tried to give him chance, he'd made her regret that decision. She wasn't going to repeat that mistake.

"God, he's being weird," Harper said, her eyes still straining after Murphy in the dark.

Clarke took a seat next to Harper on the bed. "What do you mean, weird?"

Harper shrugged. "He's all helpful and nice and shit. It's just…not like him, right? He came over after lights-out and we started kinda talking about this whole mess and well…I asked him to stay. And we both just fell asleep. But now that I've had a minute to think about it, I'm freaking out. This is Murphy we're talking about."

Clarke wasn't really sure what to say to that.

Harper looked up from her hands and met Clarke's eyes. "I mean, he has to have some kind of ulterior motive here, right? The last time he was being nice he went all homicidal and killed a couple of guys. What the hell is he up to now?"

Clarke sighed. "I might know the answer to that."

Harper crossed her arms over her stomach, waiting for her to continue.

"Bellamy might have…convinced Murphy that he needs to behave responsibly toward you. You know, given the circumstances and everything," Clarke said, tucking a strand of stray hair out of her face.

Harper's expression hardened. "What? Bellamy doesn't think I can do this on my own? He thinks I need fucking _Murphy_ by my side? Really?"

Clarke shook her head. "That's not it at all. I think it's more about Bellamy making Murphy think about his future and his place with all of us."

"So I'm what, just a test? Just some way to see if Murphy is so far gone that he'll murder a pregnant girl?"

Harper's voice was steadily rising and Clarke eyed the closest beds, hoping they weren't bothering anyone. She reached over and put a hand on the other girl's knee. "Look, would you calm down? Please? You're taking this the wrong way, okay?

Harper covered her face with her hands for a moment. "I'm sorry," she mumbled from behind them. "Everything just kinda sucks right now."

"Believe me. I get that," Clarke responded. "Don't worry about it, okay? Just…tell me what's going on."

Harper pulled her hands down from her face and leaned back a little with a grimace. "I'm having this pain. I mean, it's not severe or whatever. But it hurts, kind of right under this bone here," she said, pointing to where Clarke assumed was her pelvic bone. "It just kind of aches during the day but it really hurts whenever I'm laying down and I'm trying to roll over."

Clarke sighed and wracked her brain, trying to remember everything she could about early pregnancy. "Well," she started. "I think it's round ligament pain. And I know it hurts but it's totally normal."

"What the hell do I do about it?" Harper asked. "Because this is really uncomfortable."

"You can try a hot wash cloth over the area," Clarke answered. "Or massage. Or…uh…"

Harper fixed her with a frustrated look and Clarke tried to remember that she was being a doctor right now. "Right. Massage of the area. Or, a good orgasm. You know, relax the area."

"What are you saying I should do? Have sex with Murphy again?"

Clarke shook her head. "I'm not saying that. I mean, there are other ways to have orgasms. With or without a guy."

Harper flushed and Clarke could feel her own cheeks getting hot.

"Look," Ckarke said, standing up. "The bottom line is that your pain is probably normal. I mean, I would double check with the doctor tomorrow but as for right now, I think you're okay."

Harper thanked her and Clarke took the opportunity to slip away only to realize she was now heading back to Bellamy with thoughts of masturbation running through her head.

Bellamy was still awake when she pulled back the sheet, laying on his back with his hands tucked behind his head.

"Hey," he said as she sat on the edge of the bunk. "What's up with Harper?"

Clarke laid next to him stiffly, trying to clear her thoughts. "She's having ligament pains. Pretty normal though."

She glanced at Bellamy to see his eyes really studying her. "Is that something you're gonna have?" he asked, his eyes flickering toward her stomach.

"Probably," she answered. "It's a common complaint."

He didn't say anything in response, continuing to look at her as if there was a question on the tip of his tongue. It wasn't like him to hold his questions and Clarke immediately felt nervous.

"What?" she finally erupted, unable to take that lingering stare any longer.

"What do you mean, what?"

She crossed her arms over her stomach and pulled her eyes away from his. "You look like you want to say something. So just say it already."

"Was Murphy right?"

Clarke felt her throat tighten at his question. "Was Murphy right about what?" she asked even though she was pretty sure she knew what he was talking about.

Bellamy rolled on his side, facing her. "He said something about _my_ head being the only one you wanted between your legs," he said, his voice low. Clarke could feel her face heating up, among other things. "And you had an expression that made me wonder if that might be true."

Clarke gulped. "That's not really a question, you know," she responded breathlessly.

He chuckled, drawing her eyes to him. "You don't want the politician version I take it?"

When she didn't reply he reached across the small space between them and cupped her cheek. "This thing…whatever it is…it's us, right? Just us?"

Clarke tilted her head a little, pressing her cheek to his palm. "Are you asking if we're…exclusive?"

He nodded and Clarke felt her heart speed up exponentially. She hadn't really thought about this. She kept trying to tell herself that she didn't have a claim on him, that just because he felt obligated to take care of her didn't mean he couldn't have a life with someone else.

"I don't know," she answered, trying to remember how to breathe when she caught his eyes dipping toward her lips. "I don't want to tie you down just because…"

"For fuck's sake, Clarke," he interrupted. "For someone who's supposed to be so smart I swear to god, you can be so damn clueless."

And before she could even be offended, his lips were pressed against hers, the hand on her cheek tangling in her hair instead.

She was stunned. He'd initiated this kiss on his own, no testing things, no gas needed. That feeling didn't last long as his tongue teased the seam of her lips and she instantly gave in, opening to him and reaching with her own hands, wanting to feel his skin beneath her fingertips. She grasped the back of his neck and hung on for dear life as she was swept away.

* * *

><p>"<em>And for once you let go of your fears and your ghosts. One step, not much but it said enough."<em>

_Taylor Swift "You Are in Love"_


End file.
